


body

by goodbye_yellowbrickroad



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fred Weasley Dies, George Weasley Needs a Hug, Ghost Fred Weasley, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, Multi, Nightmares, No Incest, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Percy Weasley Redemption, Recreational Drug Use, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Twin-centric, Weasley Family Dinners (Harry Potter), uncontrollable magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 92,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27687248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodbye_yellowbrickroad/pseuds/goodbye_yellowbrickroad
Summary: George is already having a pretty shitty year. His twin brother died, he was too depressed to open up their shop on his own, he was having a serious nightmare problem, and his relationship with some of his living family members was becoming increasingly strained by the day. Needless to say, his dead brother's ghost that only he could see was so not what he needed this week.Or, the one where George Weasley struggles with object permanence for 90k words.
Relationships: Charlie Weasley & George Weasley, Fred Weasley & George Weasley, George Weasley & Ginny Weasley, George Weasley & Percy Weasley, George Weasley & Ron Weasley, George Weasley & Weasley Family, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood
Comments: 94
Kudos: 128





	1. take my eyes (take them aside)

**Author's Note:**

> Story title is from “Body” by Mother Mother, and so are all of the chapter titles. Cross-posted to fanfic.net
> 
> Fuck J. K. Rowling. All my homies hate J. K. Rowling.
> 
> Fic playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6fHKlWzvkXffrNxNzeh19e?si=VsQYE9NZTvm6mR3eRQ22LA

It was late in July of 1998 and George Weasley was fast asleep in his bed. His twin brother, Fred, was standing next to his bed. “George,” Fred was saying, “ _George._ ” 

But George slept on. 

“Jesus,” Fred sighed. “George! _George!_ ” Once upon a time, this was a common occurrence, whether it be in the Weasley family household or the flat that the twin brothers shared, but now, there was just one thing very wrong with it.

“GEORGE!” Fred yelled.

George groaned, and sat up. “ _What,_ Fred?!” 

The twins stared at one another for several seconds. Fred raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Anything?” he said. “Anything at all?”

“Hold on a second,” George said and he rubbed his eyes. “I think I’m still asleep.”

“Fucking hell,” Fred groaned. “It’s fine. I only _died._ Take your time.”

That caught George’s attention. _That_ got him to look up and make the face that Fred _knew_ he was going to make. And that all lasted about three seconds before he sighed and said, “Oh, I’m dreaming. Okay.”

“You’re awake, dumbass,” Fred said. 

“No, I’m not,” George said, and he _chuckled._ “But okay.” 

“ _George._ You’re awake. It’s me.”

“Whatever you say.” He sounded _bored._ Without another word, George turned away from Fred and laid back down. 

“Don’t go back to sleep, you idiot!” 

George groaned into his pillow. “Why?” he grumbled. “What do you _want?_ ”

“I want you to stop acting like I’ve _come back from vacation!_ I died!” 

George yawned. “Just a dream.” 

“ _Not_ just a dream!” Fred screeched, his face turned bright red, and a potted plant flew across the room and smashed against the wall. 

George sat bolt right up. “Okay. That’s new.” 

“ _George,_ it’s me,” Fred said desperately.

George stared at the plant that was bent and ruined on the floor, and the pot that had been smashed to bits. He stared with a mixture of emotions that Fred couldn’t place. “I…” George said. “I don’t…” 

“ _Please,_ Georgie.” Fred reached out and grabbed his brother’s wrist. George looked down at where Fred was holding his wrist very slowly, and frowned. 

“That feels really real.” George looked back up at Fred’s face. “This doesn’t feel like a dream.” 

Fred rolled his eyes. “‘Cause, it’s not.” 

“Oh, God,” George gasped. “I’ve lost it.”

“What?”

“Gone mad.”

“ _No._ ”

“I have.” 

“You _haven’t._ ” 

“ _I have_ because you can’t –”

“ – be here –”

“ – because you’re –”

“ – dead. Yes, I know.” 

George shook his head. “And so, _you can’t be_ –”

“But I am.” 

George stared at him for several more seconds, then put his face in his hands. “I can’t catch a fucking break,” he groaned. 

There was a knock at the door. “Georgie?” Molly Weasley poked her head into the room.

Fred scoffed and whipped around, pointing a finger at their mother accusingly. “Since when does _she_ call you Georgie?” 

“Are you all right?” Molly went on. “I heard a crash. Oh, no, what happened to your plant?” 

Fred couldn’t believe that he’d been dead for three months and his mother was looking through him, worried about a _plant._ He had guessed before she came in that George might be the only one who was able to see him, but he hadn’t been _sure._ Fred had prepared for the possibility that his mother wouldn’t be able to see him before it happened, but that didn’t stop it from hurting so badly. 

“I don’t know,” George said, shaking his head. “I just woke up and I – I don’t know, I – I don’t –” He put his face in his hands and sat there quietly, his shoulders shaking. 

“Oh, no,” Fred mumbled.

“Oh, _George,_ ” Molly said. She sat down on his bed and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Did you have another nightmare?”

“No, I –” George shook his head. “I just –” He trailed off, breathed deeply for a few moments, and sighed. He sat straight up, shook his head again, and said, “No. No, I’m… I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I just… I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“Okay,” Molly said uncertainly. “Breakfast is almost ready, okay?”

George nodded.

“Okay.” She kissed his forehead then bustled out of the room. 

George and Fred sat in silence for a minute or so and then, without a word and without so much as a glance in Fred’s direction, George got out of bed. He snatched his wand up off of his desk and he started cleaning up the smashed plant. 

“Have you…” Fred started eventually. “Have you been having nightmares, then?”

George didn’t look at him right away. When he did, he just said, “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Fred wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Instead, he asked, “What’s with the plant, then?” 

George turned to look at him again, frowning. “How are you _here?_ ”

“Shut up. What’s with the plant, George?” 

“There’s nothing _with_ the plant. _How are you here?_ ” 

“There’s _something_ with the plant. Mum saw it smashed up and looked like she’d been hexed. And _you_. What are you even doing?”

“I’m fixing the pot?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean?” George finished putting it back together and smiled, thinking to himself that Professor Flitwick would have been quite impressed with his work. 

“I mean _why_ are you _fixing the pot?_ ” 

“To _repot the plant,_ Fred. Why else?” 

“ _Why?_ ”

“What do you mean?” George calmly started scooping up the dirt that had gotten all over the floor and his desk. “I’ve just told you _why._ ”

“Oh, my god. I mean _why are you repotting the plant?_ ”

“Why wouldn’t I repot the plant? It would die otherwise.”

“ _So?_ ”

“I don’t understand.”

“Just get a new plant, George!” 

George didn’t say anything, He picked up the plant.

It was plain-looking. That’s what Fred thought as he silently watched George work, anyway. It had textured green leaves, and pretty violet flowers, but it didn’t have anything else to it. Some of the petals already looked to be wilting. George’s hands shook; Fred frowned. “ _George,_ ” he said. “What’s with the plant, man?” he added softly.

George frowned. “Don’t make me say it,” he said, but Fred stared expectantly. George groaned. “Ugh. Fine. Neville Longbottom gave out dozens of these little _plants_ after the Battle. Something about plants having memories, and the people who we lost. I don’t know. They’ve not got any magical properties or anything. They’re Muggle plants. And, as it turns out, Muggle plants are very temperamental. They’re actually a lot harder to take care of than magical plants, and they _do not_ respond well to magic. Ron’s was dead, like, two days in. He tried to water it with magic, and it _lit it on fire_. Bill’s lasted a month. I’m pretty sure Fleur kept it alive, honestly. Ginny gave hers back to Neville that same day because she knew she’d kill it. Dad tried really, really hard. He watered it too much, though. Mum did okay with it, but even hers died a few weeks ago. And, I don’t know... I just decided one day that I needed to keep it alive. Letting it die felt like letting –” He fell quiet. 

“Well,” Fred said. “That’s morbid.” 

George rolled his eyes. He finished repotting the plant and placed it back upon the window sill. They both stood in silence and stared at the plant for a little while and then Fred said, “Sorry I smashed your Death Plant.”

“Don’t call it that!” George cried. “ _Stop laughing!_ ”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Fred said, still laughing. “It’s not funny,” he added, still laughing. 

“ _Shut up!_ ” George huffed. “How did you do that anyway?”

“Do what?”

“Throw the plant. And touch my arm, Why can you do that? Touch things, _move_ things.”

“ _Magic_ things. I didn’t _touch_ the plant. I _magicked_ it across the room.”

“ _What?_ ” 

“By accident.” 

“But _how?_ You’re a ghost!”

“I don’t know. It just happens. I can’t really control it. It’s like when you’re a kid before you get your wand.” 

“That’s not great.”

“It’s not. No.” 

They got quiet for a while after that. Neither of them knew what to say. Neither of them knew what to do next. What was one _supposed_ to do next in this situation?

“So you’ve been having bad dreams,” Fred said eventually. “You’ve been having nightmares.”

“And I already said that I don’t want to talk about it,” George said. 

“Yeah, but maybe you should –” 

“I really shouldn’t.”

“But, George –” 

“Maybe we should talk about how you got here.” 

“I don’t know exactly _how_ but…” Fred trailed off. 

George furrowed his brow. “ _But what?_ ” 

“I do know…” Fred started, then sighed. He tried again. “I, sort of, understand _why_ I’m here.”

“Oh? How?”

“I don’t know how. No one told me, and I can’t remember figuring it out, it just… is. It’s something that I just… _know._ ” 

George frowned. “O-okay… Well, lay it on me, I guess.”

“Oh, no. _Please_ don’t make me say it out loud.”

George raised his eyebrows. “I told you about the plant, didn’t I?”

“Okay, _this_ and your Death Plant are so not the same thing,” Fred huffed. 

“Don’t call it that.”

“Why? That’s what it is.” 

“ _Fred._ ”

“Calm down, I’ll tell you. Honestly, I think I have to.” 

“ _Well?_ ” 

“I’m here because… because I have _unfinished business,_ okay?” 

“Oh, no. That _is_ embarrassing.” 

“Hey, watch it.” 

“What? You’re a cliche.” 

Fred rolled his eyes. 

“What’s your unfinished business, then?” George asked. They looked at one another for a while until George finally said, “Right. Me, isn’t it.” 

“I mean,” Fred sighed. “I’m pretty sure of it. Yeah. What else would it be? And since you’re the only one who can see me, I’m thinking yes.” 

“ _Great._ ” George sighed, too. “What do I need to do?” 

Fred shrugged. “‘Dunno. Clearly, we’ve left something _unfinished._ ” 

George hummed. “Wonder what it could be,” he said drily.

Fred stared back, clearly not catching on. “I… I don’t know what it could actually be,” he said, and George made a face at him. “What? Am I missing something?”

“Fred, we didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“Oh, so, what? You haven’t moved on? Okay, well, say goodbye now.”

“What – ?” George scoffed. “It’s not that –” He shook his head. “That’s – that’s not gonna _help._ We split up then the next time I saw you, you were _dead on the floor._ ” His breath hitched and he turned away so that Fred couldn’t see him cry. 

“Oh,” Fred said after a while. “So you didn’t get any closure. You can’t _accept_ it.”

George shifted uneasily as he wiped away his tears. “I – I guess. I don’t wanna talk about this.”

“Right, so that’s a _yes._ ” 

“No, stop, I just –” 

“What’s gonna make you accept it?”

“I don’t _know_ –” 

“Where would you say you are in the five stages of grief?”

“Fuck, I’m not –”

“Do you need me to say it?”

“No, I –”

“I’m dead, George.”

“ _I know._ ”

“Get over it.”

George looked at him sharply. “ _Get over it?!_ ” he cried. “Fuck you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said _fuck you._ ”

“Why?”

“Because you’re being insensitive.”

“ _I‘m_ being insensitive?”

“Yes.”

“ _I’m_ the one who died!” 

“Yeah, and you’re being really insensitive about it.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Okay, _fine._ Don’t want to just say goodbye? Do you want to _talk things out,_ Georgie? What’s with the _fucking_ nightmares?”

“I’ve already told you _twice_ that I don’t want to talk about those.” 

“Then clearly you need to!” 

“I haven’t –”

“Because you _need_ to accept –”

“I don’t want to –”

“You want closure? _Let’s get closure._ ”

“STOP!” 

Fred frowned. He looked and saw George’s cheeks streaked with tears. 

“ _Just stop,_ ” George said softly. “I don’t want to talk about this. I can’t talk about this.” 

“But, _George_ –” Fred said. 

“ _But, Fred_ –” George cried.

“I can’t move on until you move on!”

“Well, you can’t expect me to move on in an hour!”

“It’s been _months._ ” 

“Shut up.”

“It’s time to move on!”

“ _Shut up!_ ” George turned to leave. He had his hand on the doorknob.

“George, wait!” Fred cried.

George whipped around and almost – _almost_ – snapped, but when he looked into his brother’s face he almost cried. “I…” he started. “I need to eat something.” He turned and left the room without another word, leaving Fred to stand alone in heavy silence. 

Fred slowly turned around himself, looking around the room. It was an odd feeling, one that he couldn’t quite place but definitely didn’t enjoy, to look around his own bedroom like he was a stranger. 

His bed was still there, of course. He and George had bunk beds after all. There were a couple of boxes here and there with some shirts in them, and he noticed that George had taken a couple of the posters down, but beyond that, there wasn’t very much that had changed, which Fred thought was nice. 

Fred turned and look at the door, sighing. He wasn’t sure what to do; to wait for George to come back, or to go after him. 

Something occurred to Fred quite suddenly and, without thinking about it very much, he hurried from the room. He expertly avoided the spots of the hallway floor that creaked and he tiptoed down the stairs. He crept down the hall and peeked around a corner into the kitchen. 

Arthur and Molly were seated at opposite ends of the dining table, Ron and Charlie were seated on one side, and Ginny and George on the other. 

Fred slowly walked closer to the table and observed what the family breakfast routine had become. It was awful to see it; the way that it was still slowed down, and the way it still stuttered and stopped in places because they weren’t quite used to it yet. Fred felt like he was going to be sick. 

George was incredibly quiet which struck Fred as weird, but no one seemed to question it much. Actually, Fred noted, nobody seemed to be questioning it _at all._

Arthur was telling a story about someone at work and, though it was clear that no one at the table was paying him any attention, he went on telling it with a smile, sometimes pausing to laugh at his own jokes.

Fred didn’t mean to start listening as intently as he did. On the contrary, never in all of his years on Earth did Fred think he’d ever be so happy to hear one of his dad’s boring work stories. He hung onto every word, and a laugh slipped past his lips. 

George whipped around fast in his chair and looked at Fred, eyes wide.

“I’m sorry,” Fred said, frowning. “I didn’t mean to –”

“What’s the matter, George?” Molly asked, anxiety creeping into her voice. 

Ginny laid a hand gently on George’s shoulder as he shook his head, turning back to face them all. They all sat quietly until George said, “I’m not hungry.” He pushed his chair away from the table and left the kitchen.

“George –” Fred tried to reach for his brother, but he slipped away quickly. And Fred could take a hint. When it really mattered, of course. George needed space so Fred just turned back and watched his family having breakfast. 

None of them said anything. They picked at their food in silence, but none of them were really hungry anymore. Eventually, Molly just started clearing the table. 

“ _Mum,_ ” Fred said before he could stop himself. He swiped away his tears as they formed. “This is so stupid,” he whispered to himself. “ _This is so stupid._ ” He tried to even out his breathing, but he couldn’t, he _couldn’t,_ he _couldn’t breathe_ –

George entered the kitchen, now fully dressed, and started to say, “Right, well –”

Fred gasped as he remembered he didn’t need to breathe anymore, and the sugar jar exploded. The Weasleys yelled, most of them jumping to their feet in fright. “Is everyone okay?” Arthur was asking. “Is anyone hurt?”

“We’re fine, Dad,” Charlie said. “What happened?”

“I – I don’t know,” Molly said, her voice shaking. “It’s just _exploded._ Nothing like this has happened since any of you were _children._ ” 

The Weasley kids all exchanged curious looks. Fred looked at George, but George was still avoiding looking at him. 

“Well, off with you all,” Molly said. “Get out of the way so I can clean up this mess. Are you okay, Georgie?”

Fred ground his teeth together. “ _Seriously._ Since when does she _call you that?_ ” 

George nodded. “I’m just going to go for a walk.” 

Molly hesitated for a moment then opened her mouth to say something, but Charlie cut her off. “Why don’t I come with you?” he asked. “How’s that sound?”

George nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “That’d be nice.” 

“I’ll get my shoes,” Charlie said. “Be right back.” 

Ginny went back to her room and Arthur went out to the garage. Molly set to work, cleaning up the sugar that had gotten everywhere. Fred took the opportunity to step closer to George and ask, “Can I come with you?”

George frowned, opened his mouth, and closed his mouth. He shook his head and mouthed, “I’m sorry”. Charlie came back into the room with his shoes on and nodded his head, telling George, “C’mon, then.” 

“ _George_ –” Fred called after him, but George whipped away from Fred and fell into step with Charlie. “George, please –”

George clicked the front door shut very firmly behind him; Fred kept himself from tearing the front door open and chasing after George, but barely so. 

“ _THIS IS SO STUPID!_ ” Fred screamed as loud as he could manage so that George had to hear it as he strode away from the Burrow. He yelled again when he turned and stormed up the stairs. He had half a mind to slam the bedroom door shut behind him, but he figured that he had caused enough confusion and chaos in the house for one hour. He slipped in and climbed up onto his perfectly unmade bed, exactly the way he had left it in May, and he burrowed beneath the covers. “ _So_ fucking _stupid,_ ” Fred grunted angrily to his pillow. 

Fred laid there angrily for several minutes, but he found he couldn’t stay angry for very long when he was laying in his bed at home for the first time in three months. He pressed the corner of his blanket against his cheek and almost cried. He inhaled deeply and could almost hear Molly screeching, “Fred! George!” because one of their names never really came without the other at home. As if they weren’t separate people. “Up! _Up!_ ” Molly would cry when the twins slept through their alarm clock every other morning. (Fred wondered if that still happened now that it was just George, by himself.)

Outside, George was traveling between the trees, through the woods near the Burrow, with Charlie. They stopped by a stream and they settled on a grassy patch by the edge of it. They both took off their shoes and dipped their toes into the water. 

“How are you doing, George?” Charlie asked. 

“That’s a loaded question,” George said. 

“Guess it must have a pretty heavy answer, then.”

“Definitely.”

“Sounds like you should unload a little bit of it, hm?” Charlie stuck his elbow into George’s shoulder, smiling. “Let someone help you carry that weight?”

George frowned. “I’ve just been…” he grew quiet for a few moments but then he went on. “I’ve just been having more of those dreams I told you about. And I think they’re getting worse.” 

“All right,” Charlie said in a gentle tone. “Do you wanna talk about them?”

George shook his head. 

“Okay. That’s okay.” 

“It’s just – it’s just that there’s something I need to...” he trailed off, and did his best not to cry. “But I can’t. I can’t say it.” He pulled himself together mostly, but his voice still shook as he went on. “‘Cause, it’s _horrible._ ”

Charlie nodded and did his best to come off as understanding. 

“I just… I just don’t know how to…how to even _start._ ” 

And then when George looked to Charlie for guidance when Charlie’s little brother looked to him for help, it looked like it took everything that Charlie had not to burst into tears. He drew a deep breath as soon as he was able and laid a gentle hand on George’s shoulder. “Y’know,” he started slowly. “I – I’m not very good at the Bill Thing.” 

“The – the what?” 

“The – okay, so think about it. We were all the baby at one point, right? And we all had to _stop_ being the baby at some point. Well, except for Ginny. But we all had to become a big brother to someone. And I became a big brother to _Percy._ Maybe that’s why I’m not great at, well, _being the older brother_ in these situations _._ ” 

“What’re you talking about? Charlie, you’re a great older brother.” 

“Sure. But not in the same way… Bill has this certain place among us, as the Oldest, and now he’s… he’s not really around anymore. He and Fleur are trying to start a family of their own, which is great and all, but… I don’t know how to be the Oldest, George. I get that you don’t know how to start to say what you need to say, and I know that if Bill were here he’d know exactly the right thing to say or ask to help you figure it out, but I don’t know how to do that. I’m sorry, I just don’t.” Charlie paused. “But I am here for you. I’m here to listen, whenever you know how to say it.” 

George smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Charlie,” he said. 

They sat in silence for a long time. Neither of them tried to say anything and neither of them looked at one another. They watched the way that the water moved for a long time and then Charlie looked at George, and George looked at Charlie. They nodded and stood up from the ground. They picked up their shoes and started heading back. The July grass was soft against their bare feet. 

When they were standing on the doorstep of the Burrow, George paused. “Thanks, Charlie,” he said softly.

Charlie shot him a crooked smile and ruffled his hair (and George didn’t miss it when he reached to ruffle Fred’s hair, too).“Anytime, kid,” he said. “I’m gonna look for Mum, ‘kay?”

George nodded. “Okay. I’m gonna take a nap, I think.”

Charlie smiled. “I think that’s a very good idea. Go get some sleep. I’ll see you at dinnertime?”

George returned Charlie’s smile. “See you then.” Then he headed up the stairs, while Charlie went looking for Molly in the vegetable garden. 

George expected to find Fred sitting at his desk or laying in his bed, so he was a little thrown when he walked in to find Fred pacing back and forth with a look of intensity painting his face. “F-Fred?” George said. “Is everything okay?” he asked, then realized too late how stupid a question that really was. 

“I – I didn’t mean to!” Fred cried. “I swear. _I’m sorry._ ”

George frowned. “What happened?”

“I just – I got _angry_ – and then one of the flowers fell off –” he pointed to the window. “I’m _sorry_ –”

George walked over to his plant to examine the situation. He found that one of the flowers was, indeed, lying in the dirt. It was shriveled up, still vibrant in some spots but mostly dark purple. He picked it up, looked back at Fred, and shrugged. “Probably just from what happened this morning,” he said.

“But you repotted it,” Fred said. “It was fine.”

“I told you,” said George. “These Muggle plants are… _sensitive._ ” 

“I’m sorry,” Fred said again. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” George opened his mouth to speak but Fred continued, “I’m just… I feel lost. And scared.” 

George frowned when he realized that Fred wasn’t talking about the plant anymore. “Yeah,” he said. He crossed the room and sat down on his bed. He nodded to the spot next to him. 

Fred shuffled his feet and fidgeted uncertainly. But, eventually, he did cross the room and sit down next to George on the bed. He narrowly missed hitting his head on the top bunk.

“Charlie said something really interesting on our walk,” George told Fred. “He has that all of us have been the baby of the family at some point and that all of us, except for Ginny, have had to stop being the baby of the family at some point.”

“Hm,” Fred hummed thoughtfully. “I’ve never thought of it that way before.”

“No, neither have I,” George said. “But I thought about it for a second and then I realized, _you weren’t._ ”

“Huh?”

“You were never the baby of the family,” George said. “Well, I suppose you were for about thirteen minutes. But you were never the baby. Because of me. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, yeah,” Fred said. “I guess. But we’re _twins._ We got to be the baby _together._ ”

“But I was always getting sick or hurt,” George said. “Loads more than you ever did. So I was always the one being babied.”

“O-okay,” Fred said, shaking his head a little. “Okay, I guess that’s true. But why does it matter?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t really. But it’s just interesting, and I think it probably explains quite a lot about how you interact with the rest of the family.”

“I suppose.”

“And that got me thinking –” 

“Where are you going with this, George?”

“ _Just listen._ ”

“Ugh.”

“That got me thinking about how hard this must be for you. To be… back here. To see everyone. To have _them_ not see _you_.” George frowned. “I’m sorry. And... I’m sorry.”

Fred sighed. 

“It’s gonna be okay. You know, we _are_ going to figure this out. Together.” 

Fred smiled. “ _Together._ ” 

George didn’t match his twin’s smile. He still frowned, and he looked down at his blanket when he spoke. “Fred… I’ve missed you.” 

Fred _laughed_ of all things. “I should hope so,” he said. They both laughed. “I’ve missed you, too, George.”

George looked back up at him. “Well, obviously.”


	2. take my heart (pull it apart)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred looks at thinks from George's point of view. George cries some more.

So Fred and George Weasley had a new problem to fix, and they were dead set on finding a solution to that problem together. It would have been just like old times if not for the fact that one of them was a ghost. 

They spent some time talking about the mechanics of Fred’s spirit form. “I just don’t get it,” George said. “I mean, we know lots of ghosts. They’re see-through. You can  _ walk through them.  _ And I’ve never seen a ghost do any sort of magic like you’ve been doing.”

Fred didn’t know, and he didn’t seem to care quite as much as George did about the answer. Fred was eager to talk more about his “unfinished business”. 

“So we need to get you to  _ accept  _ that I’ve died,” Fred said very late on the first night that he was there. They’d been on the subject since early in the afternoon, and it was now in the early hours of the morning. No matter how long Fred went on about George  _ accepting  _ his death, though, he never brought up how he died nor did he mention the day that he died. Half-asleep and inattentive as he was, George was grateful for this. “It raises some pretty big questions,” Fred continued, “like what does it mean to really  _ accept  _ someone’s death?”   
George’s chin rested in the palm of his hand. His eyes were shut, unable to stay open any longer. “I don’t know.”

“And where do we even start with you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe we’ve got to look at how you’ve dealt with death in the past!”

George hummed. 

“Let’s see. There was Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon.”

George hummed again. “Don’t remember them much,” he said, and then yawned. 

“Mm. I don’t either. Well, they died when we were  _ three,  _ so I s’pose not… What about the cats?”

George shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

“You took it pretty hard when Max died.”

George hummed. 

“And once we know  _ where  _ to start, there will of course be  _ how  _ to start.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, c’mon, it’s _ your _ brain. Even if you don’t know where to start, you must at least know where  _ not  _ to start.”

“I don’t know.”

“George.”

“I don’t know.”   
“You’re just saying ‘I don’t know’ to  _ everything,  _ aren’t you?”

George yawned. “No, I just really don’t know, Fred,” he said. “And I’m  _ tired, _ ” he added, whining.

“Oh, right,” Fred said, glancing at the alarm clock. “Sleep.”

George glanced at him. “Right. You, uh, don’t need to sleep anymore, I suppose. And I guess you wouldn’t be –” 

“– able to fall asleep at all.” Fred shook his head. “No, I can’t sleep, but you can. And you need to. So go on.”

“What’re you going to do all night?” 

“I s’pose I’ll lay in my bed anyway,” Fred said. “It’s quite comforting, actually.” 

George smiled at him and then started getting ready for bed. 

Fred kicked his shoes off and shed his jacket, then he climbed into bed in what he was wearing. (It wasn’t as if he could change; he was stuck wearing the outfit that he died in forever.  _ At least it’s a nice jacket,  _ he thought.)

George turned out the lights and climbed into bed soon after. “Goodnight, Freddie,” he said, and he knew damn well they both heard the tears in his voice. 

“Goodnight, Georgie.”

George fell asleep easily, almost instantly, and then he was able to get in a few uneasy hours of sleep. Even if his dreams were less than pleasant, he was happy to at least have his eyes shut and his head on his pillow. He was still so tired, though, and he definitely would have slept a lot longer if it weren’t for his... alarm clock going off just before sunrise. 

He didn’t remember setting an alarm the night before. “Wha–?”

“Time to get up already?” Fred said eagerly. He jumped down from the top bunk and turned the alarm clock off. “Okay, let’s go.” 

“ _ Why? _ ” George whined, struggling to keep his left eye open. The right eye was a lost cause. 

“Um, hello? The shop? You already left it closed yesterday. I figured you would when I showed up. But today’s Friday if I’m not mistaken. The last one of July. We’ll make a killing today.”

George was suddenly very awake. 

“I mean  _ you  _ will.  _ You’ll  _ make a killing today.” 

“Oh,” George said, then looked away from Fred. “I don’t really know how to tell you this, Freddie. But um, the shop’s not been reopened yet.”

“What?! Why not?!”

“Just not yet.” He sat up but still avoided looking Fred in the eye. “I’m just not ready.”

“What do you mean you’re not ready?”

“I mean exactly what I said.”

“ _ George. _ ”

“Fred?”

“Is that why you’re living here, then? I haven’t asked because I’ve been afraid of the answer. Rightfully so, I suppose.”

“Just chill out for a second.”

“What’ve you done with the  _ flat,  _ then?”

“Oh, my God, I’m just not living there  _ right now. _ ” 

“Are you gonna sell the shop?”

“Fred, it’s the crack of dawn.”

“Are you gonna throw away all the work we’ve done?” 

“Can I please just go back to sleep for a couple of hours?” 

“After you tell me why you’re  _ letting our dream die. _ ”

“Well,” George said, hugging his knees to his chest. “Now you’re just being insensitive again. I’m going back to bed.”

“ _ Insensitive. _ I thought that we were past this, George. How could I be insensitive about my own death?  _ I’m  _ the one who  _ died. _ ”

“Yeah, so you keep on saying.”

“What’s  _ that  _ supposed to mean?”

“Not supposed to mean  _ anything,  _ Fred _. _ ” 

“You’re being so stupid –”

“So then  _ think about it. _ ”

Fred paused. “What?”

George shrugged. “If I’m being so  _ stupid,  _ then the least you can do is just imagine it.” 

“I don’t underst–”

“Imagine that you lived, and I died,” George cut him off. “Here, I’ll walk you through it .”

“George, wait –”

“So imagine you’re looking for the rest of our family, looking for whoever’s still alive, and Dad comes running toward you. At least he’s not dead, but he looks like he’s seen a ghost. And he holds you by the shoulders and tells you, ‘Fred, I’m sorry. Your brother is dead.’”

“George,” Fred said, his voice thick. 

“So what do you say to Dad, Fred?” 

“George, stop it.” 

“All right, I’ll tell you what you say,” George went on without a care. “You say, ‘Which one?’ Right? You say, ‘Which one? There’s five of them.’ It’s like an elimination game. Not Dad or Mum. Not Ginny. So which one of the  _ five? _ But you ask yourself if it’s Bill, Charlie, Ron, or Percy.”

“ _ Stop! _ ”

“That’s what I did,” George said, blinking back tears. He did his best to keep his voice even. “I stood there and thought to myself,  _ Bill, Charlie, Ron, or Percy. _ Because I couldn’t even  _ imagine  _ –” George cut himself off. He shook his head in silence for a second. “And Dad starts to cry, and he says your name. He just says your name to stall so that he doesn’t have to tell you yet, but somehow that makes something click. ‘Cause Bill, Charlie, Percy, you, me, and Ron are all brothers. So who would he call  _ your brother?  _ Just  _ your  _ brother.” 

Fred shook his head. 

“Imagine hearing Dad say my name,” George said as he started to cry. 

Fred mumbled something. 

“Imagine Mum –”

“ _ No, _ ” Fred said louder. 

“Why not?”

“Stop it.”

“But it’s just stupid, right? I’m just being stupid and I should just  _ get over it,  _ right?”

“I said  _ stop it,  _ George.”

“Why don’t you want to think about it, Fred?! Why can’t you just  _ imagine _ my cold, dead bod–”

“ _ Fuck you, _ ” Fred spat, and he fled the room, slamming the door shut behind him. 

George huffed loudly and pressed his face into his hands. He wiped away the tears and did his best to breathe normally again. And then, without much more thought on the matter, he laid down and went back to sleep. He was tired – exhausted – but more than that, he just couldn’t stand to be awake anymore. So George rolled over and fell into a dream. 

_ He was falling for a little while, perfectly at peace, and then he hit the ground running. He ducked just in time to miss the streak of green that flashed past him.  _

That was close,  _ he thought.  _

_ Despite the confusion when Fred had arrived, George had actually gotten to be very good at identifying when he was dreaming and when he was awake. He thought that his slip up was understandable given that his dead brother woke him up out of the blue one morning.  _

_ But he was dreaming now. He was sure of it. And he was running. He rounded a corner into an abandoned corridor and leaned up against the wall, pausing there for breath. He leaned his head up against the wall and waited. He waited a long time, and just when he started thinking about the real Fred who was storming about the Burrow in spirit form, a dreamed-up Fred started screaming from somewhere nearby. “GEORGE!” he cried out. “GEORGE, HELP ME!” _

_ There were three constants in George’s nightmares.  _

_ The first one was that he was always at Hogwarts. Most of the time, it was empty. But sometimes it was just the Battle of Hogwarts all over again. Sometimes he was in the corridors or a classroom, very often it was the Great Hall, and a few different times he had found himself in his old dormitory. One time he had found himself in the Forbidden Forest, and another time he spent half the dream thinking it was his fourth year at Hogwarts. But he was always at Hogwarts.  _

_ The second one was that George could always hear Fred somewhere nearby, calling for George to come and help him; to come and save him. As hard as George tried, though, he could never find Fred. He could never get to him before he died.  _

_ The third one was standing next to George, waiting for him to notice his presence.  _

_ George turned, his breathing heavy, and spotted the man standing a couple of feet away. He paused for a moment, thinking of Fred’s ghost who had stormed out on him just minutes before he fell asleep. But he shook his head and reminded himself that this was not that Fred. This wasn’t Fred at all.  _

_ The first time that Not Fred, as George had taken to calling him, appeared in his dreams was about a week after Fred had died. George had spent seven nights looking for his brother in his dreams, doing all that he could to save him but to no avail, so when Not Fred showed up for the first time, George thought that he’d found him at last. “Fred!” he had cried, relief flooding through him as he came to a stop in front of him.  _

_ “Not Fred,” Fred’s lookalike had replied, which was how he had gotten the name that George gave him.  _

_ “What?” George had said, frowning deeply at him.  _

_ But that was as much of an explanation as Not Fred was willing to give apparently. In time, George started making assumptions about who he was, or what his purpose in George’s nightmares was, but Not Fred was still something of an enigma. He was always there, though, whether George understood or not; whether George liked it or not.  _

_ “Well, what’re you standing around for?” Not Fred snapped. “Just gonna let me die?  _ Again? _ ”  _

_ George gulped. “Not you,” he said faintly.  _

_ Not Fred shrugged. “Got me there. What’re you doing?” _

_ George squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s not really you,” he said.  _

_ “Yeah. How observant, detective.” Not Fred rolled his eyes. “Are you gonna save my life or not?” _

_ “Not you,” George said again.  _

_ “GEORGE!” Fred cried from the room next to them.  _

_ George clamped his hands over his ears and slid down the wall. “That’s not you, either.” _

_ Not Fred squatted down next to George. “So, then, why’d you say ‘you’?”  _

_ George’s bottom lip trembled. _

_ “George! GEORGE!” _

_ “Start looking, Georgie,” Not Fred spit at him then stood up. It never sounded right when Not Fred called him ‘Georgie’. It didn’t sound right when Molly called him ‘Georgie’, either. This was different though. When Not Fred said it, it sounded like he was mocking George; it sounded like he was mocking  _ Fred.  _ “C’mon. Start looking.”  _

_ “I’ll always be too late,” George shot back.  _

_ “Yes, you will.” _

_ “So what’s the point?” _

_ Not Fred smirked. “You already know the answer to that.”  _

_ “GEORGE!” _

_ George’s heart sank. “No. I don’t.” _

_ “You do,” Not Fred said in a sing-song voice.  _

_ “GEORGE,  _ PLEASE! _ ”  _

_ “You’re wrong.” _

_ “You wanna see…” _

“George!”

_ “I don’t. _ ” 

_ “You do. You wanna see it.” _

“George! George!”

_ “Please… Please, I don’t want to…” _

_ Not Fred smirked again. “You will.” _

“Wake up, George!” 

***

“ _ Fuck you _ ,” Fred cried, and he stormed out of the room. He slammed the door shut in a moment of red hot anger and then immediately regretted it when his gaze fell on Ginny, who was on her way down the narrow hallway to breakfast. She froze in place, and so did he, and they just stared at each other. Fred actually had himself convinced that she really could see him for a second or two, then she started looking around in bewilderment, clearly confused as to why the door to Fred and George’s bedroom had opened and shut of its own accord. 

_ George’s bedroom,  _ Fred corrected himself a second later. 

Fred backed away from Ginny quickly, but he hit two different creaky spots. “ _ Fuck, _ ” he hissed, then tripped and crashed to the floor. On his way down, he kicked up the carpet. 

He looked up at Ginny, who was still looking all around. She looked  _ scared  _ of all things. When she spoke, her voice cracked. “F-Fred?”

Fred stared at her for a while. “I’m here, Ginny,” he said clearly, willing her to hear it. She didn’t hear him, of course, but a second later she and Fred both heard someone start crying at the bottom of the staircase at the end of the hall. 

“ _ Mum? _ ” Ginny cried, and Fred realized several seconds too late that she was going to run into him and  _ that  _ was going to be a much harder situation to get out of. He dove to get out of the way even though he knew damn well the hallway wasn’t wide enough for her to miss him even if was pressed against the wall. 

And that was how Fred found out that ghosts can fly. Instead of pressing himself up against the wall, Fred pressed himself flat against the ceiling. He watched, from above, as Ginny disappeared down the stairs. He could hear her and Molly crying together and Fred knew that should make him feel something, but he was a little hung up on the fact that he could  _ fly.  _

Eventually, he started sinking back down to the floor where he landed gently upon his feet. He could hear Molly and Ginny making their way up the stairs, so he got out of the way. 

“I was walking down the hall and their – I mean his – door opened out of nowhere, and then slammed shut.  _ Then  _ the floor creaked, and the carpet just started  _ moving. _ ” 

Molly sighed and said, “Yes, things like this keep happening all about the house. The sugar yesterday, and George’s plant. Now, this.” 

“But why?” Ginny frowned.

Molly hummed but didn’t answer her. Instead, she asked, “Are you sure that George didn’t close the door.” 

“Positive. And even if he did, the  _ carpet moved. _ ” 

Molly hummed again. “Did you check on George?”

Ginny frowned again. “No. Sorry.”

Molly knocked lightly on the bedroom door and poked her head in. “Georgie?”

“ _ Stop calling him that, _ ” Fred seethed. 

“Oh, he’s sleeping,” Molly said softly, and she shut the door. 

“Oh,” Ginny said. “Good. That’s good. He’s not been sleeping well.”

“No, not at all. He said last week that the nightmares are getting better, but I don’t think I believe it.” 

“I share a wall with him, Mum. I  _ know  _ the nightmares aren’t getting any better.” 

Fred frowned. 

“He didn’t eat last night,” Molly said.

Fred thought guiltily to himself that it was his own fault that George hadn’t eaten dinner the night before; they had been so caught up in talking about how and why Fred had gotten to be there. 

Then Ginny sighed and said, “Again.”

Fred blinked. “Again?” 

“ _ And  _ he barely ate breakfast yesterday,” she added.

Molly sighed, too. “Yes, well,” she started, but apparently she didn’t have anything else to say. She pressed her lips together and fell quiet, lost in thought. 

“I’m worried about him,” Ginny said softly. 

Molly smiled sadly. “I know,” she said. “Me, too.” They were silent again for a few moments more, then Molly sighed again. “Come on. Let’s have breakfast. We’ll save George a plate, at least.” They disappeared down the stairs together, and Fred was left alone again. 

He didn’t know what to do next. He sort of wanted to wake George up and talk to him, but it’s not like he could tell George what he just saw. It would only upset him even more to know that Molly and Ginny had been talking about him. Plus, George could clearly use the sleep.

Fred sighed as he walked away from the hallway. “What’re we doing, Georgie?” he said softly. 

Fred had been gone for three months, and not just gone but  _ dead,  _ and since Fred had gotten there he and George had spent more time fighting than not. It wasn’t like them. It felt awful. 

He went out into the yard, feeling even more miserable than he had when he ran out on George, and he sat down under a tree. He closed his eyes and tried to quiet his mind, but found that no matter how he tried to shut up the voice inside his head, he couldn’t stop hearing George’s voice saying over and over again, “ _ Imagine hearing Dad say my name. _ ” 

Fred frowned. He shook his head as if George were actually there and talking to him. 

“ _ Imagine hearing Dad say my name. _ ” 

“I don’t want to,” Fred said aloud because there was no one around, and no one could hear him anyway. “I don’t  _ want to. _ ” 

“ _ Imagine hearing Dad say my name. _ ” 

“I don’t want to see it!”

A tiny, bitter voice in the back of his head that Fred usually ignored even when he should listen said, “Neither did he.” 

Fred frowned even deeper and he shook his head, but he sighed in resignation because he knew that little voice was right. He sighed in resignation as all of the white-hot anger that was pent-up inside of him turned to ice-cold sadness and crashed over him like a wave. 

Since Fred had arrived, he had been able to touch things and move things and  _ magic  _ things. George could feel it when Fred grabbed his wrist. But everything felt very muted to Fred. He had felt George’s wrist in his hand, but less so than he should have. He could feel the grass beneath his fingertips, but not as much as he once had, and maybe that was why it was so easy for him to drop into a memory that wasn’t even real. He closed his eyes and imagined that he was somewhere else, and then he was –

–  _ in the Great Hall. Everything was wispy and discolored, and some of the people walking back didn’t have any features on their faces. Sort of like a… _

_ “Dream,” Fred said faintly. He wondered if this was another ghost power that he had.  _

_ The Great Hall was littered with bodies. A lot of them were faceless like the people rushing back and forth, but a lot of them weren’t. A lot of them bore the faces of the people that Fred knew to be dead, for he had met them beyond the veil. Lupin and Tonks. Lavender Brown. Colin Creevey  _ –  _ he wanted to hurt someone when he found out that Colin Creevey was dead.  _

_ He spotted a cluster of red-heads and he started shaking uncontrollably. He knew what was about to happen.  _

_ Arthur spotted Fred out of the corner of his eye. He whispered something to Bill and then Bill leaned down and said something to Ginny.  _

_ Fred drew a shaky breath. “C’mon,” he said under his breath. “On with the show, Weasleys.”  _

_ Bill and Arthur kept whispering back and forth and glancing at Fred.  _

_ “Let’s get this over with,” Fred groaned. He took a step forward. _

_ Arthur spotted Fred making his way toward them all, and without another word to Bill, he broke away from the rest of his family and strode quickly toward him. “ _ Fred! _ ” he said. “Thank goodness you’re okay.” _

_ “D-Dad,” Fred said, his voice shaking.  _

_ “Fred, look at me for a second, okay?” Arthur said, holding onto his son’s shoulders tightly.  _

_ And there wasn’t much else to do, so Fred looked into his father’s face.  _

_ Arthur hesitated for a long moment.“Your brother is dead,” he said, and even though Fred knew that was exactly what he was going to say it still managed to shock him.  _

_ “Which one?” he said because it’s what George had said.  _

_ Arthur’s breath shook. “Oh, Fred,” he said. “I’m so sorry.” _

_ Fred braced himself.  _

_ “It’s George. He was killed.” _

_ Fred was trying to process hearing it, trying to process whatever he was feeling. All he knew was that he heart was splitting in two, his lungs forgot how to take in air, and that little voice in his head was reminding him that whatever he was feeling, George had it ten times worse  _ – 

_ “Come with me,” Arthur said.  _

_ “What?” Fred cried in a panic. “No! I didn’t agree to this part!”  _

_ “I know, Fred,” Arthur said gently. “But come with me, now. It’s all going to be okay.” _

_ “I’m ready to wake up now!” Fred yelled upward, then once more downward. He thought to himself that he need only open his eyes, but as much as he tried, he couldn’t seem to figure out how.  _

_ “It’s going to be okay,” Arthur said again gently as he took Fred by the shoulders and led him toward the Weasleys.  _

_ “D-Dad, please, I can’t look  _ – _ ”  _

_ “I know, Fred,” Arthur said but he kept guiding him closer to the rest of their family.  _

_ The Weasleys were grouped tightly around George, but they slowly parted the way when Fred was there.  _

_ George had never even asked him to imagine having to see him lying there, dead. Maybe Fred had left before he got the chance, or maybe George thought that was going too far.  _

_ Fred had thought beforehand that he had some preparation, some life experience that was going to help him get through this, because when George lost his ear Fred thought he was dead. He walked into that living room and George was lying still on the couch with his eyes closed and a hole in the side of his head, after all. He thought that if he’d been able to survive that, then he could survive this. ( _ And if I can’t,  _ he told himself,  _ it doesn’t matter. I’m dead. _ ) _

_ His eyes landed on George where he was laid out on the ground. George stared up at the ceiling without seeing it and there was no color in his face at all. Fred kept waiting for him to stir, the way that he did on the couch on the night he lost his ear, but wasn’t stirring. His chest wasn’t moving. He was  _ –

_ “No,” Fred sobbed. He pulled George’s body up by the shoulders and cried in his hair. Fred’s scream rang out across the Great Hall, causing all the people without faces to look in his direction. He cried, harder and harder, and the grief washed over him again and again. It got worse and worse and worse until he wished that he was dead and the world went dark all at once. A second later he  _ –

– opened his eyes with a gasp as he remembered that he actually  _ was  _ dead. 

Fred leaped up from the ground and sprinted for the door. He ran through the kitchen and clambered up the stairs, forgetting to mind how much noise he was making altogether. He shook as he entered his –  _ George’s  _ – bedroom. He closed the door behind himself and turned round to find that George was still fast asleep in his bed. Fred stilled and smiled at his brother for a moment, maybe two, thanking all that was good that his brother was still alive, and then he noticed how George was twitching and shifting uncomfortably in his sleep. 

Fred frowned. “ _ George! _ ” he said, pushing him hard on the shoulder to wake him up. George didn’t wake up, though. Fred kept shaking him, doing whatever he could to get him to wake up, but to no avail.

_ “ _ You’re wrong,” George whispered sharply and Fred thought for sure he’d woken up at last.

“What do you mean  _ I’m wrong? _ ” Fred scowled at George as he leaned back, but realized after a few seconds that George was still dreaming. He waited to see if his brother would say anything else in his sleep, but then he just started to cry. “George!” Fred cried, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him firmly.

George struggled in Fred’s grasp.  _ “ _ I don’t –”

“George! George!”

“Please… Please, I don’t want to…” George whimpered.

Fred didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but the look on George’s face was enough to make his stomach twist. “Wake up, George!” he shook him harder than ever. 

George came to with a gasp. He immediately locked eyes with Fred and there was something about the way he looked at him – as if  _ this  _ were the first time he’d seen him since he died in May – and then he burst into tears. He leaned forward and cried onto Fred’s jacket while Fred awkwardly cradled George’s head against his chest the way they’d both seen Molly do a million times before. 

“You  _ died, _ ” George sobbed, his voice muffled. 

Fred sniffled. “I know.”

“We never said goodbye and – and you just  _ died.  _ And I have to – I have to live without – I don’t know how to be me without you there.”

Fred held onto him a little tighter. “I  _ know.  _ And I’m – I’m so sorry, Georgie.” 

George lifted his head up so that he could look into Fred’s face. Both of them had swollen, red eyes and runny noses, and George frowned deeply while Fred cracked a grin. 

“We both look in a state, don’t we?” Fred laughed. 

“Why’re  _ you  _ sorry?” George asked. 

Fred frowned. “Y’know,” he said. “For leaving you.”

“Oh,” George said. “Okay. But…  _ I’m  _ sorry.” 

“For  _ what? _ ”

“For… for so many things.” George shook his head because that didn’t  _ really  _ answer Fred’s question, and Fred had answered his. “For agreeing to split up,” he added.

“You can’t put that on yourself.”

George sighed and buried his face in his hands, mumbling something intelligible, then looking up and asking, “Jeez, what time is it?”

Fred glanced quickly at the alarm clock and did a double-take when he found that it was nearly noon. He’d been in the backyard a lot longer than he had originally thought. 

“I missed breakfast,” George said groggily. 

“Are you hungry?” Fred asked.

George shrugged. “Not really.” He thought about it for a second. “Maybe a little.” 

“I have something to tell you,” Fred said, earning a raised eyebrow from George. “You should probably eat something first.” 

This only served to make George more curious.

“And maybe make some tea.” 

***

“I… I can’t believe you put yourself through that,” George said a little while later when Fred was finished recounting the tale of his imaginary memory. They were sitting opposite one another on their rug with sandwiches and tea set out between them. They knew that  _ ghosts  _ couldn’t eat, but Fred was far from a standard sort of ghost. They had figured out very quickly, and with only one  _ very tiny  _ explosion, that whatever Fred actually was now, he was not able to eat or drink. “I can’t believe you actually imagined every moment of what that would have been like.” 

“You told me to,” Fred said, frowning. 

“I didn’t really mean it,” George said, matching Fred’s frown. “I didn’t think you’d do it. I was just… I was tired, and hurt, and… a little angry.” He shook his head. “I’m  _ sorry _ I told you to do that.”

“I’m not,” Fred said, and George tilted his head curiously. “I… I’m sorry, George,” he said uneasily. In life, he was not usually one to admit when he had been wrong. George always had – he had a terribly guilty conscience – but Fred had always struggled to own up to it when he was wrong. It was like admitting to defeat to him. Still, he knew that he needed to try at the very least. “You were  _ right. _ I, um, I  _ was  _ being insensitive. I can’t explain it, but when I imagined it… it felt real. I knew that it wasn’t. I remembered the whole time that it wasn’t. I  _ know  _ that I’m the one who died and that you’re… you’re  _ fine.  _ But just going through that, even when it just felt like a dream, was the worst thing I’ve ever seen and I’m – I’m  _ sorry.  _ I’m sorry you had to –” Fred didn’t realize that he was crying until he choked on his words. “ I’m sorry I left you, George.” 

George stared into his cup of tea, still half full, and said softly, “I’m sorry I didn’t get to you in time.” 

Fred took several seconds to let George’s words sink in. Then, finally, he said, “W-wait, what’d you just say?” 

George didn’t answer right away. He picked up the glass of water that he’d been drinking alongside his tea and he took it to the windowsill. He began watering the plant with gentle love and care, as he had found that was the only way that stubborn plant would accept its water. He figured out early on that he couldn’t get water on the leaves because that actually  _ burnt them  _ somehow! Muggle plants were fucking difficult. 

When he was done, George turned back to Fred who was watching him very intently. 

“Okay,” George sighed and leaned against the windowsill, “so, they started pretty much right away.” 

“What did?” Fred frowned. “Right away when? What’re you talking about? Why’d you say you didn’t get to me in time?” 

George hesitated, but only for a moment. “My nightmares.” 

“Oh, George, you don’t have to – I didn’t say all that just to make you –”

“I know, I know.” George mustered a small smile. “I want to tell you.” 

“You do?” 

“Well, no, not really,” George chucked. “But I need to. And I’m ready now.” 

Fred nodded. “Okay. Are you gonna sit or – ?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Fred said. “I’m listening,” he said. 

George was silent for another minute, and then he began slowly, “I… fell asleep…” he paused. Took a breath. “Well, I  _ couldn’t  _ fall asleep for a couple of days after you died, but then when I finally did, I – I had a nightmare. And, pretty much every night since, I’ve been having these awful dreams that – I don’t know quite how to explain it, but they feel  _ so _ real.” 

George paused again and Fred waited with bated breath. He didn’t know what to expect. 

“But so in these dreams, I’m at Hogwarts. It looks different all the time. Usually, it’s during the Battle or, after it, or it’s just empty. But I’m always at Hogwarts. It’s how I figured out I was awake yesterday when you showed up. It felt real, but the dreams do, too. But we weren’t at Hogwarts. Sometimes it's dark, sometimes it’s light. Sometimes I’m inside and sometimes I’m outside. But I can always…” he paused again and a shiver ran up his spine. “I can always hear you dying,” he said faintly. 

“What?” 

“Don’t make me say it again.” 

“But I didn’t hear –”

“ _ I can hear you dying,  _ Fred.” 

Fred was taken aback. 

“I can hear you and you just…” George trailed off, staring into space and shaking his head. “You’re  _ screaming. _ ”

“O-okay,” Fred said unsteadily. “Then what?” 

“Well, I look for you, usually.” He sighed heavily. “But… I’m always too late. I can never get to you in time.” He paused. “‘Cause I didn’t. I didn’t get to you in time, Fred.”

“George, that’s not –”

“There’s more,” George cut him off. 

“Oh. Okay. Well, go on, then.” 

“There’s this…” George frowned. “He wasn’t there right away. He appeared after a few weeks. It’s like... he’s like an evil twin.”

“Evil  _ twin? _ ” Fred said. 

“Yeah,” George said. “But it’s  _ your  _ evil twin.” 

“So, he looks like you?” Fred asked. 

George frowned. “No, he looks like  _ you. _ ”

Fred frowned. “So he’s  _ your  _ twin?” 

“What?” 

“Well, I’m your twin, and I look like me. So if he looks like me –”

“Not twin like a brother. Twin like lookalike.” 

“Oh. Like a doppelgänger.” 

“Exactly. But evil.” 

“Maybe it’s just me.” 

“No.” George shook his head. “No, it’s – he’s – there was this one time I woke up in the dream on the Quidditch pitch and Not Fred – that’s what I call him, see – convinced me that I’d fallen off my broom and I’d passed out and we were fourteen years old. And then I believed it for about a day.” 

“That sounds like something I’d do though,” Fred laughed. 

“And then Not Fred pushed me down a flight of stairs –”

“Oh, ouch.”

“– and held me still.” 

“Oh, no.”

“And then I could hear you dying somewhere nearby –  _ but you sounded like you were fourteen! _ ” He sobbed. “Ugh. You sounded so young, and like you were in so much pain. It was…” 

“Okay, I see what you mean. Not me.” 

“Not you.” 

“So maybe what you need is –”

“Wait, there’s more.” 

“ _ More? _ ”

“Yeah.”

“Jeez.” 

“I know.” 

“Okay, well, go on.” 

“Okay, so, this bit started more recently, but…” George trailed off again, but he didn’t pick back up as he’d done before. He just trailed off, getting quieter and quieter until he wasn’t speaking anymore, and then sat still. Eventually, he started to shake his head minutely at nothing. 

“George?” Fred eventually broke the silence. 

“Can’t,” George mumbled, barely audible. “Can’t,” he said again, and Fred was just barely able to make it out. 

Fred frowned. “Can’t what?” he asked, but George only shook his head. He got to his feet but didn’t get closer. He just stood so that they were at eye level when he said, “It’s okay, Georgie. Everything’s gonna be okay. You can tell me anything.” 

“I can’t,” George said a little louder than before, a little clearer. “Fred,” he said, and his voice cracked. “It’s horrible. It’s awful.” 

“It’s  _ okay, _ ” Fred said. “What part of all this isn’t awful?” 

George cracked a small smile. “You’ve got a point there.” He sighed. “I don’t know if I can say it, Freddie. I don’t know how I’m supposed to say it.” He stood still and looked at his brother for a while. Then, after several minutes of heavy silence, he opened his mouth to speak and –

There came a knock on the bedroom door. Four of them, in rapid succession. 

“FUCKING HELL!” Fred groaned, throwing his arms up in the air. 

George cleared his throat. “Who is –”

The door was flung open and quickly slammed shut behind the newcomer. “Can I hide in here for a bit?” Ginny said as she leaned back against the door with her arms tucked behind her back, trying to catch her breath. 

George and Fred glanced at one another, then back at their sister. “Hide from what?” they asked in unison, then smirked at one another just a little bit.


	3. take my tongue (go have some fun)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly throws a party and the Weasley children are none too happy when a surprise guest arrives.

Fred and George glanced away from smirking at one another and they looked back at Ginny once again. “Hide from _what?_ ” George asked again.

Ginny frowned at George. “What’re you doing?” 

“What do you mean?” George frowned back at her

“What’re you looking at?” Ginny asked. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You looked over like there was someone next to –” she looked directly at Fred without knowing it for the second time that day. Her gaze landed on the spot where he stood and she frowned, but she looked back at George a few moments later to say, “I’m sorry, George, I didn’t mean to –”

George shook his head. “Don’t even mention it,” he said. He pulled up a chair and changed the subject. “What’s the matter, kid?” he asked a little too eagerly. He was clearly glad for an excuse to avoid telling Fred any more about his nightmares. (Fred rolled his eyes.)

Ginny grimaced. “Don’t call me that.” She ignored the chair that George had pulled up for her and sat down next to him on his bed instead. With a dramatic sigh, she finally told him, “Harry’s here.”

“Harry’s _here?_ ” George said, eyebrows raised. 

“ _Harry’s_ here?” Fred said, grinning. 

“Why?” George said. 

“It’s his birthday,” Ginny said and when George only raised questioning eyebrows at her, she added, “Mum’s throwing him a birthday party.”

“Right. I forgot.”

“What’s wrong?” Fred said. “Why are we not happy that Harry’s here? It’s Harry!”

“ _I_ don’t –” George started to say, but he quickly shut up. 

Ginny furrowed her brow. “You don’t what?”

“No, never mind,” George said and quickly added, “So, talk to me. Harry’s here. How’re you doing?” 

“Ugh!” Ginny groaned. “Not great!” 

“Okay, well, I’d figured that much out already,” George said. “Elaborate?”

“You know what’s worse than this, though?” Ginny said as she wilted sideways and sprawled out across George’s bed. “Luna’s coming to the party.”

George chuckled. “Of course she is.” 

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re not.”

“It’s kinda funny.”

“For you.”

“Just your luck.”

Ginny hummed. 

“What am I missing here?” Fred hissed. “Why doesn’t she want Luna here? Why doesn’t she want Harry here?” 

George frowned at him but otherwise ignored him. 

“ _George,_ ” Ginny said. “What am I going to do?”

“I dunno,” George said, shrugging. “Face him like an adult?”

Fred laughed.

Ginny glared. 

“Okay, okay,” George said. “How about – um – well, you could – um –” 

George was saved from having to answer by the sound of his mother’s footsteps. Molly poked her head into the room. “Georgie!” she said in an excited voice. She was smiling wider than anyone had seen her do in weeks. 

“ _Why…_ ” Fred gritted out, “does she keep _calling you that?_ ” 

“Oh, Ginny, good,” Molly said. “I’ve been looking for you. Downstairs! Come, come! Harry’s here!” 

“I don’t feel well,” Ginny grunted. 

“Well, then, just say hi and then you had better take a nap before the party,” Molly said. “George, come on. Come say hi to Harry.” 

“Oh, erm, yeah,” George said. “For sure. I’ll be down as soon as I’m dressed, Mum.” 

“Okay, okay,” Molly said, still grinning from ear to ear. “Hurry, though! _Harry’s_ here!” She hurried from the room, calling out, “Charlie! Get up, Charlie! Harry’s here!” 

Ginny rolled onto her back and covered her face with a pillow. “What the fuck!” she yelled into it. 

“Okay, this does really suck,” George sighed. “I’m sorry, Ginny.” 

“It’s fine. She’s liked Harry more than the rest of us for seven years. Don’t know why I’m surprised.”

George didn’t think that was entirely fair, but he thought it best not to say that out loud at the moment. 

With another grunt, Ginny got up from the bed. “Can you tell Mum I’ve gone back to bed? I’m going to hide in my room all afternoon.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks. See you later.”

“See you.”

As soon as the door was shut behind Ginny, Fred was in his ear. “What is going on in this house? Why doesn’t Ginny want to see Harry? Why doesn’t Ginny want to see Luna? And seriously – _seriously_ – why does Mum keep calling you that? What is _happening?_ ”

George took a deep breath, and then set to work, getting dressed for the day. At the same time, he set to work explaining some things to Fred: “Okay, so, you’ve sort of missed a lot being, well, _dead,_ and all. Bill and Fleur are trying to get pregnant. Um, Ron and _Hermione_ are dating now –”

“Called it.” Fred grinned. “You owe me five galleons.”

George said and rolled his eyes. “Anyway, as I was saying, Ginny sat us all down a little while after the War ended and told us that she and Luna Lovegood have had this thing going on.”

“Oh,” Fred said. “Okay. And when you say ‘this thing’, what do you –”

“I mean that they are in a committed relationship,” George said. “ _Quite_ committed actually. The way I hear it, Luna’s planning their wedding.”

“Since _when?_ ” Fred said. 

“Before Christmas, apparently.” George shrugged.

“Why’d she never tell us?” 

George shrugged again. “She wasn’t ready.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Fred said. “But what’s the big deal here? She and Harry broke up in – what? _June?_ And I know you said –”

“ – _they kissed!_ After they broke up, they kissed. That’s something.” 

“Yeah, but that was in August. So what’s the big deal?”

“Well, she asked Harry to go to lunch with her not long after she told the family,” George said. “She was going to tell him but before she got the chance, he _asked if she wanted to start dating again._ ”

“ _No!_ ”

“Yes! So, it’s not that they’re angry with one another or that anyone feels like they’ve been cheated on, they’re both just being so awkward about it.”

“Oh, Harry and Ginny in an awkward social situation?” Fred grimaced. “Recipe for disaster.”

“Yeah,” George agreed. “It’s been pretty bad. And he’s round for dinner three times a week. He and Ron work together. He sleeps here some nights. And now Mum’s throwing a party for his birthday. Poor Ginny.” 

“Poor Ginny, my ass!” Fred laughed. “This is gonna be _such_ fun to watch.” 

George couldn’t help but laugh too. This was just like old times; gossiping about their siblings and reveling in watching the drama play out. He was just about to say to Fred that they should go down and see Harry, but Fred spoke first:

“And Mum? Why’s she been calling you ‘Georgie’ then?” 

George froze. “I don’t know,” he said, but he hesitated a second too long. Fred knew him too well. George cursed himself for not replying faster as his twin fixed him with a stare that said he knew that George was lying. “I’ve got to go see Harry!” George said and dove for the door. 

“George!” Fred cried in protest. “You haven’t even finished telling me about the nightmares!” 

“Mmm,” George said. “Maybe later, yeah?” Then he bolted out of the bedroom. 

“George Weasley, get back here!” Fred called and chased after him. 

George raced down the stairs and burst into the kitchen. “Harry!” he cried, maybe a little bit overzealous all things considered, but Harry fixed him with a grin. 

“George,” he said, “good to see you.”

“Morning, Ron,” George said, then asked Harry, “How’ve you been doing?”

“As well as I can,” Harry said. “And you?” 

“About the same,” George said, nodding. 

“Will you be joining us for lunch, Georgie?” Molly asked, trying to keep the hopeful note out of her voice. 

George glanced at Fred, who had his arms crossed and was tapping his foot impatiently, for a second and then looked back to his mother and quickly said, “I’d love to, yeah.”

Fred groaned and rolled his eyes as dramatically as he could manage. 

“Harry!” Charlie cried as he entered the kitchen. “Good to see you, man!” 

Harry and Ron were both distracted talking to Charlie about their Auror training while Molly was busy putting lunch together for the household. Fred took the opportunity to try and get a response out of George while no one was paying him any mind. “I’m sorry I asked about Mum,” he said, but George didn’t look his way. “Can we just go talk about the nightmares? I really thought we were getting somewhere.” George still ignored him. “C’mon,” Fred laughed. “So the Chosen One shows up and you forget all about your dead brother, is that it?” he tried for a joke. 

“I –” George turned sharply toward him, but stopped, remembering her couldn’t just _speak to him_ . Remembering that his brother was there, his brother was _back,_ but no one else knew about it. And no one else _could_ know. He glanced around the room, then back at Fred, and whispered to him, barely audible, “I need to eat.” 

Fred opened his mouth to protest, but his mother’s voice was in his head saying, “ _He didn’t eat last night._ ” He closed his mouth and frowned, and Ginny’s voice added, “ _Again._ ” He took a step back and decided he should leave George alone. He thought he should maybe even go to the living room and give George some space, but there was so much going on in the kitchen and Fred couldn’t bear to miss it. 

“That all sounds great,” Charlie was saying to Ron and Harry. “How’re the dormitories? Everyone says they’re awful. I wasn’t surprised when Ron decided to keep living here.” 

“Oh,” Harry laughed. “They’re, uh, they’re okay. I mean… No, they’re fucking terrible.” Everyone chuckled. “What about you? How are – er – the dragons?”

Charlie, George, and Ron all grew eerily silent which piqued Harry’s interest, as well as Fred’s. Fred hadn’t wondered much about why Charlie was there. Once upon a time, before the better part of Europe was being affected by a wizarding war, Charlie used to pop in for weekend visits a couple of times a year. Fred had thought that it only made sense he’d start doing that again once the war ended. But then, he’d thought it made sense that George would take just one day off from work when Fred showed up as a ghost in his bedroom. 

“I’ve not been back to Romania since May, actually,” Charlie told Harry.

“Oh,” Harry said. 

“Why?” Fred said. 

“I’m taking some time off,” Charlie said as if answering Fred’s question.

“Oh, I…” Harry said. “I’m really sorry I asked.”

“Don’t be.” Charlie shook his head. 

“ _Why?_ ” Fred said. “ _Why_ is he here?”

“So…” Harry said awkwardly. “Um… _George,_ how’s the shop do–”

“Quit while you’re ahead, mate,” Ron hissed.

George laughed. “I’m actually going through a spot of depression at the moment, believe it or not,” he said, trying to make a joke of it. “I haven’t re-opened the shop yet.” 

“Of course,” Harry said quickly, his cheeks glowing bright red. “George, I’m really sorry –”

“Don’t be,” George said, waving it off quickly. “Tell me more about Auror school.” 

Fred noticed Charlie eyeing the staircase and, when the second eldest Weasley brother whispered something to Ron and slipped out of the conversation, Fred suddenly wasn’t interested in what Harry Potter had to say anymore. Careful to avoid George’s notice, Fred slunk after Charlie and followed closely behind him up the stairs and into his bedroom. 

When Fred died, Charlie’s bedroom had been barren and empty but for some old books and _MAGICAL GEOGRAPHIC_ posters left behind on the walls. It still wasn’t quite like it used to be back when he was still living at home and going to Hogwarts, but it had some life to it again. Copies of the most recent editions of _Dragon Weekly!_ were strewn across Charlie’s desk. There were plants here and there just like there had once been; they were placed in different nooks and crannies, and on shelves, and lining the windowsill. Fred noticed one on the windowsill that looked just like the one George had and he told himself, with a small smile, that he really needed to remember to tell George about it later. 

Fred was just about done having a look around Charlie’s bedroom when he noticed Charlie, out of the corner of his eye, collapsing onto his bed in a fit of sobs. Fred tilted his head. “Okay,” he said. “Well, that’s new.” 

Fred couldn’t quite remember all the times he’d seen Charlie cry. He gave it a great deal of thought for all of ten seconds and came up with about two examples, both of them being when the family cats died, so it was just quite a surprise to see Charlie crying. He regretted following Charlie into his room and, as softly as he could, he opened the door and shut it gently behind him. Charlie just kept crying all the while, so Fred assumed that he hadn’t noticed. 

Fred slipped back into the kitchen just in time to hear Ron finish telling a story about something stupid that Draco Malfoy had said one day during Auror training, to which Harry and George roared with laughter. He leaned back against the wall and thought to himself for the first time that maybe, just maybe, he’d done more harm than good in showing up at the Burrow. 

***

George was getting dressed for Harry’s birthday party a few hours later. Apparently, there were quite a lot of people coming out to the Burrow for it. He was facing his mirror, buttoning his shirt, when he said anxiously, “Freddie? Are you – are you mad at me?”

Fred was sitting on George’s desk with legs folded into his chest. He frowned at George. “‘Course not.” 

George nodded slowly. “I _will_ finish telling you,” he said. “I know I need to.”

Fred frowned even deeper, “You don't _need_ to. If you really can’t – I mean, if you _really don’t want to_ then –”

“But I’ve got to,” George said. “How else am I ever supposed to – how will I ever –” he sighed. “You said you can’t move on until I do. If I’m having these nightmares every night then I can’t… I won’t be able… I’m never gonna accept that you’re gone if I spend every night still looking for you. Y’know what I mean?”

Fred nodded slowly. “Yeah. I do.”

“So, yeah,” George sighed. “I will tell you. Just… give me a little more time, okay? Let’s just go to a birthday party.” 

“Right,” Fred laughed. “Going to a party where only one person can see me. Sounds so fun.”

“Yeah, good thing it’s me,” George quipped. “Your favorite person in the whole world.”

In another place, at another time, Fred would have made a joke and said that Ginny or Charlie or Bill was his favorite person. But now, when they could both feel each minute as it ticked away from them, Fred just smiled and said, “Good thing.” 

George smiled. 

“Am I allowed to ask about Charlie?”

George faltered, but he chuckled. “Depends what you want to say about Charlie.”

“Well, for one, his Death Plant is still alive as well. I assume it’s doing well. It looks like yours anyway.” 

George smiled at his purple flower plant that sat at the window. The plant had bounced back nicely after being chucked at a well the day before. “Please,” he sighed to Fred, even as he gazed at the plant in question. “ _Don’t_ call it that.” He looked up from the plant and back to Fred. “It’s nice that Charlie’s is still going strong, though. I was starting to think mine was the last one still standing. How do you know, though? When did you see it?” 

“I followed him when he left lunch earlier.” 

“Ah.”

“And…”

“Yes?”

“I also wanted to ask you why he’s not gone back to Romania yet.”

“Oh.” George frowned. “That’s not obvious?”

“Don’t say it’s ‘cause of me. Please, don’t.”

“ _Obviously_ it’s ‘cause of you, Fred.”

“ _Why?_ ” Fred groaned. “I get that you and I did everything together, but can everyone else just go about their lives? I can’t stand to think that anyone is so hung up about _me!_ ”

George looked at him, sighed, then started tucking his shirt into his jeans without a response. Someone started knocking on the door and George said, “Come in.”

For the second time that day, Ginny entered and quickly clicked the door shut behind herself. She’d changed into a striped shirt and a brightly colored sweater since the last time she was there. “How do I look?” she asked breathlessly. George wondered why she always seemed to be running everywhere these days. 

“Very nice, Gin,” George said. He twirled around once. “What about me?”

Ginny grinned. “ _Lovely_ as ever.”

“Of course, I always do,” George said. “When’s Luna getting here?”

“Any minute,” Ginny said. “She sent a Patronus not long ago. Neville’s on his way, too.”

“Good,” George said. He held Ginny’s shoulders. “You’re going to be just fine.” 

Ginny smiled. “Thanks, George. I appreciate it.”

George punched her arm. “Anytime, kid.”

“ _Don’t_ call me –”

Charlie burst into the room. “Bill’s here!” he cried, and then ran back out of the room and down the stairs, crying, “ _Bill!_ ”

Ginny grinned. “Bill!” she said, not as excited as Charlie but her mood had brightened altogether.

Fred was excited, too. He felt a little sick, and the thought of having to face Bill when Bill wouldn’t be able to see him made him want to cry, but he was excited to see him all the same. 

Fred and George hurried out the door and down the stairs together, just like old times. They bounded into the kitchen to greet Bill and Fleur and just as they burst into the room, the doorbell rang again. 

“Coming!” Molly called. She opened the door and in came Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. “Welcome, welcome!” Molly said. 

Luna went straight to Ginny’s side while Neville wandered over to Harry and Ron. Bill and Charlie were already deep in conversation. Within the next few minutes, Hermione Granger and Angelina Johnson both arrived and, soon after, Lee Jordan. 

“Oh, how lovely!” Molly said happily as she started to set out the food. “It’s so nice having everyone here together. Arthur’s just running a little late getting home from work – he usually does. But please, eat! He can just grab a plate when he gets here.”

Everyone started to pile their plates high with Molly’s delicious cooking, chattering amongst themselves in the small groups that they began forming. George kept pointing to different foods and eyeing Fred silently to get his opinion. Harry, Ron, and Hermione tucked themselves into a corner and ducked their heads together. Ginny, Luna, and Neville escaped the kitchen and took over the couch; Luna sat with her legs across Ginny’s lap. Bill and Charlie were still deep in conversation, catching up on all that they’d missed in each other’s lives since Charlie had gone to visit Shell Cottage the weekend before. Molly was busy finishing Harry’s birthday cake, of course. All of this left George with Lee and Angelina to talk to. 

“Read any good books lately?” Lee asked them, clearly not expecting a serious response.

“Been rereading the old _Herbology_ textbooks, actually,” George said.

“Why would you put yourself through that?” Angelina asked, looking rather put off.

“Right?” Fred turned to her as if she could see him.

“Is this about Neville’s plant again?” Lee said. “The little ones that he handed out after the Battle of Hogwarts? George is a little bit obsessed with his.”

“Death Plant,” Fred said.

“I’m not obsessed,” George defended. “I’m just really good at taking care of plants.” 

“Bullshit,” Angelina laughed. “We both took Herbology with you. We know you’re no good with plants.”

“She’s got you there,” Fred said, also laughing. 

George rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” 

Lee and Angelina struck up a conversation about Quidditch and George’s gaze wandered around the room. He was looking for something, but no one around him could tell just what it was. 

The front door opened and George hoped it was his dad. He was finding conversation with Lee and Angelina to be difficult at the moment. But then, he found conversation with just about anyone to be difficult these days. 

Arthur would always let George help him out with whatever he needed to get done if George just needed to take his mind off of things for a little while. Molly would do the same, but she would fuss over George at the same time, asking if he was okay and how he had been feeling and did he want something to eat and how did he sleep last night. Arthur let George work in silence if he needed to. 

But it wasn’t Arthur. Dean Thomas walked in with a giant gift box, calling out, “Happy birthday, Harry!” 

Seamus Finnigan popped out from behind Dean. “Sorry, we’re late!” he said. 

Angelina and Lee both went to greet Dean and Seamus. George took the opportunity to bolt into the next room, Fred following closely behind him. He stopped next to the couch and grinned crookedly at Ginny. “We could have a parade of your ex-boyfriends right now,” he joked. Fred laughed. 

Ginny looked up. “Huh?”

“Dean Thomas is here,” George explained. 

“Oh,” Ginny said, sounding distracted and not interested in the least bit. 

George frowned and looked to Luna, but she was busy braiding Ginny’s hair and started to hum a song that no one else knew. George looked to Neville, who waved. 

“Hello,” Neville said brightly. 

“Hey,” George said. Neither of them asked how the other had been lately. “Oh, Neville! I had a couple questions for you, actually. I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

“Are you gonna ask him about the Death Plant?” Fred laughed, but George didn’t answer him. 

“Ask away,” Neville said, lending his full attention to George. 

“Oh, no,” Fred said, and he wasn’t laughing anymore. “Oh, no, you _are_ gonna ask him about the fucking Death Plant,” he said, sounding horrified, but George still ignored him. 

“My plant is looking a little… _wilted,_ ” George said.

Neville nodded, immediately intrigued. “Mhm, I see,” he said. “And what kind of plant is this?”

“Erm – it’s the one you gave me when –”

“ _Right,_ ” Neville said. “The African violets – it’s a Muggle plant, you know.”

“Yeah, I noticed it was rather… non-magical,” George said. 

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Neville said, his voice light. “I wouldn’t say they’re non-magical per se. I think that there are some types of magic in the world that even the greatest wizards cannot understand.” 

“What the fuck?” Fred said, but George still did not acknowledge him. 

“But you said that it was looking wilted?” Neville asked.

“Yeah,” George said, and then looked embarrassed. “I don’t know how to explain this exactly, but it sort of got… smashed against a wall yesterday?”

“ _Oh,_ ” Neville squeaked, clearly trying his best not to look too worried. 

“Things have been flying about and exploding randomly in our house recently,” George said. 

“Oh, that’s rather odd, isn’t it?” Neville said.

“Mhm, and we don’t know why – just can’t figure it out,” George said quickly. “So, anyway, I repotted the plant,” he went on. “It’s bouncing back, but it’s still looking a little sad. Plus, it gets like this every now and again. I was wondering if I’m not watering it enough?”

“How often are you watering her?” Neville asked. 

“ _Her?_ ” Fred said.

“Like five… and a half,” George said. “Ish.” 

“Okay,” Neville said. “Just a little too often.”

“ _Really?_ I was sure that wasn’t enough.” 

“Yeah. Try watering every seven days for a few weeks, then write to me if there’s no improvement.”

“ _Awesome,_ ” George said, sounding relieved. “Thanks so much, Neville.” 

“Dad’s home!” Ron called from the other room and George, Ginny, Luna, and Neville all skittered over to the doorway that connected the living room to the kitchen. They all poked their heads into the kitchen to greet Arthur when he walked through the door, but they all fell silent when their eyes landed on who was entering behind him.   
“Oh, _no,_ ” Fred said while George looked like he may cry, but he didn’t dare say anything. 

Molly was the first to speak. “Percy,” she said slowly. “You’re… you’re home.” 

Percy was frozen in place for a few long moments, but then he smiled and said, “Yeah. I am.” 

“What the hell is he doing here?” Fred said in a low voice. 

George’s breath shook.

“George, say something,” Fred said insistently. “What the hell is he doing here?”

George shook his head. He pressed his lips together. “

“What d’you think you’re doing here?” Ginny finally spoke up.

“Yes, Ginny!” Fred cried. “Go, Ginny!”

“Enough, Ginny,” Molly snapped at her daughter, then rushed to hug Percy. 

Ginny’s face turned red. “ _Dad,_ you –” 

“Ginevra, _I_ invited Percy,” Arthur cut her off and spoke very clearly. Everyone was stunned into silence. Percy shifted back and forth uneasily. 

George twitched, far too aware of all the people who were just watching the Weasley’s family drama play out like a Muggle television show. Luna at least at the decency to keep her focus on braiding Ginny’s hair through it all. But the rest of the Weasley family didn’t seem to notice. Or, at least, if they did then didn’t care.

Arthur went on. “We all fought a war –”

“ _Most_ of us fought a war,” Ron cut him off.

“Ronald!” Molly cried. 

“We have all made choices these past couple of years,” Arthur cut in. “Difficult choices. Now we could stand here and debate what the right decisions were, but in the moment we all made choices in order to stay alive. But the war is over, yes? It’s time we act like it. So I invited Percy to have some birthday cake and make amends.”

“Oh, there’s plenty to eat,” Molly said in a high voice that made the Weasley children want to puke. 

Everyone was starting to return to their conversations which had been interrupted by Percy Weasley’s dramatic arrival. 

“Make yourself a plate,” Molly went on to her third eldest son. “I’ll have the cake out very soon. Oh, you’re _here!_ It’s just _lovely!_ ” She hugged him again and, for the first time in years, he hugged her, too. 

Ginny scoffed. “Great,” she mumbled so that only George (and Fred), Luna, and Neville could hear. “As if tonight wasn’t bad enough.” She whipped around, her hair hitting George in the face, and marched back over to the couch. 

Luna sighed, eyes wide. “Fickle thing, family,” she said distantly and stared at the wall for a few seconds before she turned and followed Ginny. 

“This whole week just keeps getting worse and worse,” George groaned. He wrapped his hands around his middle as his anxiety was starting to give him a stomach ache. 

“Right?” Neville said. “Your plant hit a wall, now _this._ ” 

Fred barked with laughter. 

George contained his laughter to a few chuckles. “Yeah, Neville,” he said. He spotted Molly setting the cake out and serving out slices of it. “Let’s, uh, get some cake.” The two of them (and Fred) went to get some cake, then snuck outside. They narrowly avoided crossing paths with Percy, but they did manage it. They sat down together and sat down on the grass as the sun began to set. They ate their cake and Neville gave George more tips on how to care for the African violet. 

“You know they can only be in a window that’s facing north or east, right?” Neville said. 

“Yeah, figured that out from Bill – well, from Fleur,” George said. “Kinda just got lucky, really. Our room faces east.”

Neville, like everyone else for the past three months, didn’t correct George. No one ever corrected him. He would stop _one_ day – they all seemed to be so sure of that. For now, everyone seemed to be hoping he wouldn’t even notice that he was doing it. 

But Fred, without thinking about it for more than a second, said, “ _Your_ room.” 

George frowned. “Right.”

“Right what?” Neville asked.

“ _My_ room,” George said. “Not… Anyway, you were saying?”

“Right, so I have a patch of African violets at home,” Neville went on brightly as if nothing at all had happened. “I’ve noticed they do best if you sing to them.” 

“Sing to them?” George said uncertainly. 

“Do _not_ sing to the Death Plant,” Fred scoffed. “George, I _swear_ –” 

Neville finished his cake “I think I’m going to check on Ginny,” he said. “Let me know if you have any more questions, though.”

“Will do,” George said. “Thanks, Neville.”

“George, you _aren’t_ going to sing to the thing, are you?” Fred said. The idea seemed to really upset him. “I don’t think I could stand it.”

“Oh, my God,” George said. “Drop it.”

Fred huffed, but he did. “ _What_ do you think Percy’s doing here?” he said. 

“I don’t know,” George sighed. “I don’t know how to feel about it.

“What do you mean you _don’t know how to feel about it?_ ” Fred said, half-yelling half-laughing. “Feel really, really mad. Feel _angry._ Go in there and kick him out of the house.” 

George sighed. “I mean, he _did_ show up at the final battle,” he said. “He did fight.”

Fred frowned. “He did? When did that happen?”

George matched his frown. “What do you mean, Fred?”

Fred blinked. “ _What?_ ”

“Fred, you were there when he got to Hogwarts,” George said. “You were with him… Don’t you remember?”

Fred frowned even deeper. “No, I don’t remember anything of the sort.”

“What – he was with you –” George stopped. “Fred, do you really not remember him –?”

“I can’t remember dying, George.”

“What do you mean you can’t – you can’t _remember_ your own –” 

“It’s sort of like birth in a way,” Fred said. “At least, I think. I can’t remember it, and I can’t remember a lot of the weeks leading up to it. There’s just bits and pieces.” He smiled. “My last memory, and the only one I have from the Battle of Hogwarts, is splitting ways with you and telling you I’ll see you later.”

George looked down at the grass. “Oh. That’s… I just assumed you’d be able to… huh.” 

“Yeah, it’s a tad frustrating,” Fred said. 

“You didn’t tell me.” 

“I’m telling you now.” Fred shrugged. “But you were saying about Percy? He was there?”

“He was with you.” 

Fred frowned. “What do you mean he was with me?”

“When you…”

“Oh.” Fred frowned even deeper. “ _Percy_?”

George nodded.   
“Why? How? I can’t believe I’d ever go near him.” 

“Well, yeah, he…” George trailed. “But, Fred I can’t… I can’t _talk_ about…”

Fred sighed. “Right.”

They sat in silence for a minute, and then another, and then the partygoers were spilling out into the yard, yelling and laughing amongst themselves. George and Fred both looked up to see Charlie leading the lot of them across the grass. 

“Okay!” Charlie called, clapping his hands together loudly. “ _Okay!_ ” he called again, and everyone slowly fell silent. 

“What’s going on?” George asked Ginny when he, along with an invisible Fred, joined the group. 

“We’re gonna play Quidditch,” Ginny said excitedly. “ _Finally_ something I think I can handle right now.” 

“Excellent,” Fred said, grinning. 

“I’m not playing,” George said, frowning. 

“What do you _mean_ you’re not playing?!” Fred cried. 

Ginny nodded. “That’s okay, George. Do you want to watch?”

“George!” Fred said. “Play!” 

“Yeah, I think I’ll watch,” George said. 

“Right!” Charlie said. “I’ll be captain on team one. Harry, will you be captain of team two?” 

“Oh!” Harry said. “Yeah, sure.”

“Right,” Charlie said. “We’ll cut the teams down a bit. Let’s say two Chasers per team instead of three? And only one Beater?” Everyone agreed that this was fair. “I’ll be Seeker to my team.” 

“And I’ll be Seeker on mine,” Harry said. 

“I want Ginny as my first Chaser,” Charlie said.

Ginny grinned and ran over to Charlie. “Awesome,” she said, and she whispered something to Charlie when she joined him at his side.

“Angelina?” Harry said. “Be on my team?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Angelina said. She hurried over to Harry, punching the air. “Together again, Potter.”

“Right, I’ll take –” Charlie began, but he was cut off by Luna.

“I’d like to play,” she said. “You all always look like you’re having such fun.”

“Brilliant!” Ginny cried. “You can be our second Chaser.”

“Hang on just a second,” Charlie said, frowning. “ _I’m_ the captain here.” 

“Great,” Harry said, clapping his hands together. “Dean!”

“Let’s do this!” Dean cried. 

“Hang on!” Charlie said. “Luna, you’ve never _played?_ ”

“Oh, _please,_ Charlie?” Ginny said.

“Yes, _please?_ ” Luna said, skipping over to him. “I’ve always wanted to try.” 

“Fine,” Charlie said. “ _Fine._ But Harry’s team has to have someone who’s never played before, too.” 

“All right,” Harry said. “Neville?”

Neville laughed. “Appreciate the offer, Harry, but you will not get me on a broomstick.” 

“Okay, fair enough,” Harry said. “What about… Percy!” he said. Some people got very quiet. Some people laughed.

“Hey,” Percy said defensively. “I’ve _played_ Quidditch before.” 

“Close enough,” Charlie said. “I’ll take it.”

“ _Hey,_ ” Percy said. 

“You’re bad at Quidditch,” Charlie huffed, rolling his eyes. “What do you want from me? Are you in the game or not?”

Percy huffed back at him. “Very well. What position am I playing, Harry?”

“Keeper?” Harry said. 

“Okay,” Charlie said. “Ron, be my Keeper.” 

Ron grinned. “Really? Great!”

“And George?” Charlie said. “Be my Beater?”

“Oh, what?” George said. “Oh, I’m –” 

Fred huffed loudly. He reached out, grabbed George’s chin, and forced his head up and down so that, to everyone else, it looked like George was nodding. 

“Wonderful!” Charlie said brightly. 

George gaped at Charlie, and then at Fred, and then back at Charlie. He wanted to back out of the game but he had no idea how he was supposed to explain his way out of this one, so he just sighed, grabbed a broom, and joined Charlie’s team. 

“Um,” Harry said, looking around. “Mr. Weasley? Would you like to play?”

Arthur laughed, and so did his wife and his children. “Oh, Harry, thank you very much. But no, my Quidditch days are _long_ behind me.” 

“That’s all right,” Bill said loudly as he approached Harry’s team. “I’ll be your Beater, Harry.”

“ _What?_ ” Charlie yelped. “Bill, you never play anymore! And I ask you every time!”

Bill just smirked and shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh, it’s _on,_ now.” Charlie shook his head, laughing. “Let’s go!”

Everyone was mounting their broomsticks and George looked sideways at Fred. “Oh, I wish you could at least come up in the air with me,” he muttered.

“Oh, about that – there’s something I completely forgot to mention to you,” Fred said, and he grinned. “Um, funny thing, actually.”

George frowned. “What?”

“On my count!” Charlie yelled. “Three… Two… One… Up!” 

Twelve people took off into the air on Charlie’s command, eleven of them on broomsticks, and ten of them Quidditch players. Lee Jordan circled the players from a distance and cast a megaphone charm on his voice, so as to commentate for the people below. Fred, who only George could see, was floating in midair, about twenty feet off the ground. 

“What…” George gaped at him. “The fuck…”

“What is it?” Charlie frowned.

“Yeah,” Fred said, grinning. “Cool, isn’t it?”

“And they’re off!” Lee Jordan cried. 

Charlie didn’t have time to question George any further, and he didn’t seem to care now that their game of Quidditch had begun. On the ground below, Arthur, Molly, Neville, Fleur, and Hermione all cheered. 

“I can’t believe you can fly,” George said, his voice shaking. 

“I’m a ghost,” Fred laughed. “Is it really that unbelievable? Now can you pay attention before you get knocked in the head with a Bludger?”  
“ _Right!_ ” George said. “We’ll talk about this later then?”

Fred laughed and followed at George’s shoulder wherever he went. George had to admit that it was rather convenient having Fred there. It was like having two sets of eyes; if a Bludger came anywhere near him, Fred would point it out long before he’d have been able to catch it. 

Lee did his best to commentate, even as it grew dark and there weren’t any lights to help him see the players. No one could follow the game though because Lee insisted, as always, insisted on calling the players by their last names. “We’re kicking things off! Johnson passes the Quaffle to Thomas who shoots to score, but is blocked by Weasley! Weasley has the Quaffle – shoots to score – TEN POINTS TO CHARLIE’S ANGELS!”

“I didn’t name us that!” Charlie shouted. “I didn’t agree to that name!”

“Potter’s team has regained possession of the Quaffle! Johnson is making a move to score and – what’s this? Lovegood has stolen then Quaffle! She just took it straight out of Johnson’s hands and – Lovegood shoots! She scores! TWENTY TO NOTHING – CHARLIE’S ANGELS!”

Charlie whooped and, apparently, had no further protests in regards to the team name. 

The game pushed on and though Fred and George missed playing on a Quidditch team together, and as much as they missed being opposing Beaters at family functions like these, they had to admit that playing with Fred’s ghost powers was fun. At the very least, they were able to find the silver lining in quite a grim situation. 

Percy, to nobody’s surprise, was absolute shit at being Keeper. Angelina and Dean were good at stealing the Quaffle, though, and Bill was an excellent Beater. To _everyone’s_ surprise (except for maybe Ginny’s and her own), Luna was a very good Chaser. In fact, just when some of them were about to consider calling it quits because it was getting too dark, Harry found the Snitch. Charlie’s Angels won, however, because Luna had scored the most points out of anyone in the whole game. 

They all settled back to the ground, and George looked at Fred, grinning. “That was _excellent,_ ” he said. 

“Yeah, it was!” Fred whooped. 

“It really was,” Bill agreed, thinking that George had been talking to him. “You know, it was really fun playing with you, Percy. It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah, actually it _was_ fun playing with you, Perce,” Ron chimed in. 

Percy smiled. George, Ginny, and Charlie all kept their eyes down. Fred grumbled something that George wasn’t quite able to make out, but he did catch one part that sounded a lot like “traitors”. 

It was getting late, and people were beginning to take their leave. They wished Harry a very happy birthday, thanked the Weasleys for having them, and then they were off. 

“Mum,” Ginny said as softly as she could because Harry was in earshot. “Can Luna spend the night? Neville, too?” 

“Yes, of course, dear,” Molly said, waving her hand at her. She’d been keeping her eyes on Percy all night. “That’s fine.” 

“Great,” Ginny said, and then she and Luna and Neville hurried off to her room. 

“I think it’s about time we head out as well,” Bill said. He and Fleur were both yawning. 

“Aha,” Charlie said. “And _that_ is my cue to go to bed.” 

Sometime after that, Ron, Harry, and Hermione disappeared up to Ron’s room. Being the only two Weasley children left in the dwindling crowd, Percy approached George. 

“Oh, this ought to be good,” Fred said in a nasty tone. 

“Will you shut up?” George mumbled to Fred moments before Percy was right there in front of him, greeting him. 

“Hi, George!” Percy said with just a little bit too much energy. 

“Oh, h-hi,” George said. “Hi, Percy.” 

“I’m heading home,” Percy said. “I just didn’t want to leave without saying hi to you. Or… bye, I guess.”

Fred rolled his eyes.

“Oh,” George said. “That’s… that’s really nice of you, Percy,” he said, though he didn’t really mean to say it out loud. At least, he didn’t mean to sound so obviously surprised. George coughed. “Er – thanks for coming. Good game.”

Percy blinked. “Right. Quidditch. Yeah. Good game.”

“I’ll see you around,” George said.

“Hopefully not,” Fred said. 

“Would you?” Percy said. 

“What?” George said.

“ _What?_ ” Fred said. 

“Would you – could we have lunch sometime?” Percy said. “And just – just catch up?”

“Oh,” George said. 

“ _No,_ ” Fred said. 

“Um,” George said, his thoughts moving a mile a minute while Percy blinked at him expectantly. “S-sure,” he said eventually. “Why not?”

“George, what are you doing?” Fred said. 

“Wonderful!” Percy smiled. “I’ll be in touch soon, then.”

George and Percy said goodbye, wished each other good night and parted ways. George figured it was about time he went upstairs. Without saying goodbye to anyone – there were very few people there left to say goodbye to, anyway – he retreated to his bedroom. 

“Why?!” Fred yelled at him.

“Drop it, Fred,” George huffed. 

“After all he’s put Mum through –”

“Drop it!”

“After all he’s put our family through –” 

“Shut up!” George whipped around. “Just shut up! I did what I thought was best, okay? Now I’m going to _bed._ ” He finished putting on his pajamas and started climbing into bed, when someone started knocking on the door. “ _Not now, Ginny,_ ” he hissed at the door, grappling around for his wand to turn out the lights. 

“ _I’m not Ginny,_ ” the person on the other side hissed back. 

George and Fred both looked up curiously. George went to the door and opened it to find Ron, Harry, and Hermione clustered together in the hallway. “What’re you doing, Ron?” George sighed. 

“Can we come in?” Ron whispered. 

“What is going on?” George said. 

“The boys are being perfectly ridiculous,” Hermione said, arms crossed. “That’s what’s going on.”

George groaned. “Whatever. Fine. Come in.” He climbed back into bed. “Close the door behind you.” He wrapped himself in his blankets and sat with his back against the wall. “What do you want?” he said when Ron, Harry, and Hermione sat down on the floor in front of him. (Fred, who had seated himself by the window, laughed at the sight of it.)

“Well, first of all, I was wondering if Percy asked you the same thing that he asked me,” Ron said. 

Fred gasped dramatically. 

George frowned. “Okay… Well, what did he ask you?” 

“He asked me if I’d have breakfast with him next week,” Ron said. 

“Wow!” Fred said, feigning shock. 

George just sighed. “Yeah, he asked me to get lunch with him sometime soon.” 

“And what did _you_ say to him, George?” Hermione asked pointedly. 

George blinked. “Well, I told him I would.” 

“There,” Hermione said. “You see?”

“Well,” Ron said, frowning. 

“I told you,” Hermione said.

“I wanna know what Ron told him,” Fred said.

“Okay, Hermione,” Harry sighed. “That’s not really –” 

“What’d you tell him?” George asked Ron. 

Ron looked embarrassed and before he could even open his mouth, Hermione had cut in for him. “Ronald _insulted_ Percy when he asked –”

“I _did not_ –” Ron defended. 

“Oh, I hope he did,” Fred said, grinning.

“He really didn’t insult him,” Harry said to George. 

“I forgot how _annoying_ these three can be,” Fred said, rolling his eyes. 

“ _Ron,_ ” George said. “Just let _Ron_ speak. Jeez. What did you say to Percy?”

Ron frowned. “I… I told him I’d have to think about it.” 

“Oh,” George said. 

“Oh,” Fred said, disappointed. 

“Well, that’s hardly an insult, Hermione,” George said. 

“Percy is trying to reach out to his family members and reconnect,” Hermione said. “Trying to make up for his past wrongs, and Ron just brushed him off like –”

Someone knocked on the door. 

“Oh, please, come in!” George cried in a desperate tone. 

Fred laughed. As much as he was pissed at Percy and frustrated that most people couldn’t see him, this was fun and he could almost pretend that it was just like old times at Hogwarts. 

“ _Please_ tell me that Percy talked to you, too,” Ginny said, bursting into the room. “Oh, hi, Harry.” She frowned for a moment, then simply shrugged. Neville and Luna entered behind her, carrying bottles of firewhisky. They were all, presumably, drunk. “Oh! Hello, Ron,” Ginny went on. “Did Percy talk to you as well? Please tell me it wasn’t just me.”

“Pass the firewhisky this way, Neville,” George sighed. He took the bottle that Neville held out and gulped down as much as he could bear to. 

“He asked George to go to lunch and he said yes,” Ron said. “He asked me to tea. I said I needed to think about it. I did tell him I’d get back to him, though!”

“You were _rude,_ ” Hermione huffed. 

“Fuck off, Hermione,” Ginny snapped. “Percy asked me to get breakfast with him on Sunday. I told him if he ever spoke to me again, I’d Transfigure him into a tea kettle.”

Hermione slapped a hand over her mouth. 

“Ginny, I knew that you would come through!” Fred exclaimed. “George, tell her she’s done a great job. _Wonderful._ The best of any of you.”

George settled down and laid his head upon his pillow. He simply couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. Sleepily, he said, “Excellent job, Ginny. Very proud.”

Ginny smiled. 

Luna cheered and handed out the bottles of firewhiskey. Hermione kept making snide remarks underneath her breath and Ginny kept yelling at her. 

Fred sighed and wished they would all just shut up. He watched George relax into his pillow, and watched his breathing slow. He regretted badgering George so harshly when he was clearly exhausted. He wished that the six people gathered in George’s bedroom would just _shut up_ and _let him sleep._ But it appeared that George didn’t care much because he was falling asleep either way. 

***

George could hear the six voices floating around him, gossiping about Percy and yelling at one another. He was aware, as well, that Fred’s eyes bore into him from across the room. But George was simply too tired to care about Fred or Percy or the six people chattering loudly at his bedside. He gave way to endless darkness. He fell, and fell, and fell…

... _and he sat up straight on a broomstick of all places. He looked around, frowning deeply. To his right, also on a broomstick, Not Fred was smirking, looking smugger than ever. “Wh-whoa,” George said, wobbling on his broom._

_“Hey, there,” Not Fred said, waving. “Ready?”_

_George was still frowning. “R-ready for what?”_

_Not Fred wiggled his eyebrows, and then the air exploded with the sound of Fred’s voice screaming for George to come and save him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !Mild spoilers for the rest of the fic!
> 
> A little warning for any Percy stans, there's a lot of mixed feelings on Percy in this fic. There are some high points and some low points, but in the end, he gets his redemption :)


	4. take my nose (go and dispose)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred and George have a disagreement. Fred pouts. George spends some time with his other siblings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: anxiety attack, nightmares, recreational drug use

Fred watched George sleep and kept wishing that Ron, Ginny, Harry, Hermione, Luna, and Neville would take their conversations elsewhere. The past two days had been an emotional whirlwind. George was so tired; he deserved to  _ sleep _ . George didn’t seem to be all too disturbed by the people around him, though. He slept soundly and everyone else went on, arguing about the matter of Percy. Fred relaxed once he realized that George was getting some rest anyway.

Eventually, Ginny was the one who noticed that George was sleeping and she ordered everyone out. She shushed them all the way out the door and pulled George’s blanket over his feet before she backed out of the bedroom. Fred felt a great rush of gratitude for Ginny. 

Fred got up and walked around in circles, then began to pace, then switched back to walking in circles again. When he grew bored, he began to think that he might climb into bed and lay comfortably until his twin brother was awake when George started kicking at the blanket that Ginny had tucked around his feet. He whined lowly and his breath sounded choked.

“George?” Fred said, frowning. 

As if in response, George sobbed. 

“Hey, I’m here,” Fred said. He bounded across the room and held onto George’s arm tightly. “George, wake up.” 

“I don’t –” George shook his head. 

“C’mon, George!” Fred grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position, shaking him. 

George’s eyes snapped open and he cried, “I don’t wanna see!” 

Fred frowned. “ _ What? _ ” 

“I don’t wanna,” George said and shook his head. His cheeks were streaked with tears. “Please, I don’t – I don’t wanna see.” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Fred said. He pushed George’s hair out of his face. “You don’t have to see anything you don’t wanna see.”

George was still crying but he grew softer. “Do you promise?” 

“Y-yeah,” Fred said. “Sure. I promise.” 

George’s breathing slowly evened out. He sniffled, wiped his nose, and said one more time, “I don’t want to see it.” 

“What don’t you want to see, Georgie?” Fred said. 

George’s breath shook. “You’re real.”

Fred nodded. “Real as I can be. Y’know, given the circumstances. What gave it away this time? We’re not at Hogwarts.” 

George shook his head. “It wasn’t even that. You called me… It only sounds right when  _ you  _ say it.”

Fred frowned, confused, for a few seconds, but then it hit him. He smiled. “I know, Georgie.” They both sat up on George’s bed, sharing his blanket, with their backs against the wall. Side-by-side; where they belonged.

“Th-there’s… there’s one more thing I haven’t told you about the nightmares,” George said. “One more thing I need to tell you.”

“Yeah,” Fred said. “You said you wanted to tell me in the morning.”

“Yeah,” George said, nodding. “But I think I need to tell you now.”

“Okay. Go ahead. I’m all ears.”

“Fred… I really need you to let me get this one out, okay? P-please, just –”

“Leave all commentary ‘til the end?” Fred laughed.

George frowned. “Leave all  _ judgment  _ ‘til the end.”

Fred matched his frowned. “George, I’m not going to judge you.” 

George shook his head. “You don’t know that. Just promise that you’ll hear me out.” 

Fred nodded his head. “‘Course I will.” 

George hesitated, but then he nodded as well. “Right,” he said. “So…  _ Not Fred _ … Once he showed up, he never went away. He’s always there. And he’s always…  _ mocking me  _ –”

“See, again, that sounds like me! How do you know for sure it’s not me?” 

“ _ Fred! _ ”

“Right, right, save all commentary ‘til the end!” 

“Thank you.” George huffed. “So he’s always there kinda just… pushing me along, in a way. Sort of just, making sure I don’t stop looking. Reminding me I’ll never make it in time.” He paused, and he could see the gears turning in Fred’s head; he could see the strain that having to keep quiet took on Fred written all over his face.

“George –”

“Fred!” 

“ _ Sorry! _ ” 

“Just  _ listen –  _ One night just a few weeks ago,” George forced himself to go on, “I was asleep. And, predictably, I was having one of these dreams. Hogwarts was quiet, but not just quiet. It was… it was peaceful. Y’know, the way it used to be. I was alone, but I was at peace.” He swallowed hard. “And then, well,  _ Not _ Fred showed up. And he was just talking. Does that sometimes – just talks. And he started saying… he started saying that…” 

Fred didn’t say a word, even when George’s face was wet with tears once more. He just reached out and laid a hand on George’s back, and he waited patiently. 

“Started saying that,” George choked out eventually, “I wasn’t looking for you to save you. That I’d never been looking for you to save you.” He looked into his twin brother’s face. “He said that – that I’m looking for you to convince myself you’ve died. He said that I have to see you die.” 

They sat in silence for a very long time, sitting shoulder to shoulder and looking one another dead in the eyes. The pause between them stretched on, seemingly endless. George waited for Fred to start laughing at him or yelling at him or both. Each breath he drew shook.

Fred turned very suddenly and leaped off of the bed. “That’s brilliant!” he said. 

George blinked. “It’s… it’s what?” he said, sure that he’d heard Fred incorrectly. 

“ _ Brilliant. _ Absolutely genius. I’m jealous I didn’t think of it sooner. Now how to make it happen…?”

“Wh-what? W-wait a second.” 

“It makes perfect sense. Don’t you see?” 

“No, I don’t see . I  _ didn’t  _ see. I  _ don’t want to  _ see. That’s my whole point, Fred.”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the cats.” 

“What?” 

“Our cats that died! Remember on the first night I was here I said that maybe we should think about how you’ve dealt with death in the past. But all we could come up with was Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon and the  _ cats.  _ Think about when the  _ cats _ died, George.” 

“I don’t know what you’re – I don’t see why that matters right –”

“ _ We _ found Max in the barn and brought him inside. You and me. We held him by the fireplace while he died. You cried for a  _ week,  _ but then you had grieved and so you moved on. Mum went on about how in touch you were with your emotions or something like that for  _ months,  _ remember?”

“Yeah, okay,  _ and? _ ” 

“And then the year after that, Ginny found Pepper dead in the garden. We were at school. By the time we got news that he was dead, they’d already buried him. And you barely cried about Pepper dying. But you forgot about it all the time, too. We went home for Christmas, for Easter, for summer, and you looked for him every time we walked in the door.”

George frowned again. “I don’t… I still don’t under–”

“George!” Fred spun in a circle happily. “You didn’t see me die!” 

“I am,” George paused. “I am perfectly aware of that. I’d like to keep it that way.” 

Fred frowned. “What’s wrong? This could solve your nightmare problems!” 

“But, Fred –”

“You can’t accept my death if you can’t believe that I’ve died,” Fred said. “This could be one step closer to figuring out the  _ ghost  _ situation.” 

“But,  _ Fred – _ ”

“What’s up?”

George scoffed at Fred. “I – I don’t –” he was breathing heavily. “ _ I don’t want to see it! _ ”

“O-oh,” Fred said. “Right. Oh, but,  _ George. _ It could fix everything.” 

“Or it could fix nothing,” George snapped. “Maybe it’d just  _ traumatize me _ .” 

“But –”

“But nothing.” George laid back down, curling up beneath his covers. “I  _ won’t  _ do it.” He turned over and squeezed his eyes shut. 

“ _ George, _ ” Fred said desperately. He sat down on the edge of George’s bed and shook him. 

“ _ What,  _ Fred?  _ What? _ ” George huffed, rolling back over aggressively to glare into Fred’s face. “What do you  _ want? _ ” 

“I want you to stop suffering for one thing,” Fred said. “I hate seeing you in so much pain.” 

“And you think seeing you die is going to help me to stop suffering?” George said. 

“I want to be able to… to move on, as well,” Fred said. “To… to whatever’s next. I’m stuck in limbo and I can’t escape until –”

“You think  _ haunting me  _ is going to make the pain go away, do you?” George said in a tone that was probably meaner than he had meant for it to be. But then, maybe it was exactly as mean as he had meant for it to be. Tears streaked his cheeks and he huffed, “Fuck!” He kicked his blankets angrily. His legs got tangled. He got that look in his eye, like he was trapped. “ _ Fuck! _ ”

“Okay, Georgie, it’s okay,” Fred said in a much gentler tone. “Just… just stay still a moment.” 

“FUCK!” George yelled. “I CAN’T – I DON’T WANT TO – I CAN’T –”

“I-it’s okay, George.” Fred’s voice shook. 

“I WON’T! I CAN’T!”

“Okay, I’m sorry –” Fred started. He held onto George as tightly as he could against his body, doing all he could to soothe him. “George,  _ please  _ –” 

“I DON’T KNOW WHERE – !” George looked even more panicked all of a sudden. “I DON’T KNOW WHERE – WHERE’S – I DON’T – !”

“You’re at  _ home, _ ” Fred said insistently. 

“WHERE!” 

“ _ George. _ ” 

“WHERE’S –” 

“George, you’re at home,” Fred said. “You’re safe. You’re –” 

The bedroom door swung open and Ginny burst into the room. Fred got out of the way just in time for Ginny to drop onto the bed and take hold of George’s shoulders. “ _ George _ ,” she said. “George, hey. It’s just a dream.” 

“WHERE’S – I DON’T KNOW WHERE –”

“Sshh.” Ginny pulled George into a sitting position and stripping the blankets off of his legs and onto the floor. 

“I – I don’t know where he –” George sounded at least a little calmer now that his legs were tangled in his bed coverings. Still, he looked up at Ginny with a desperate look and told her through tears, “I don’t know where he is. I don’t where Fred is.” 

“I’m here, George,” Fred said quickly, and George looked at him. He kept looking at him for a while, keeping very quiet. 

Fred watched as Ginny picked up George’s pillow and handed it to him with a word, nudging him until his arms were wrapped around it. “You had a nightmare, George,” she said eventually. “That’s all.” Then Ginny sat down on the bed and began pushing back the hair that was sweat-plastered to George’s forehead. Fred was sure he would feel more grateful for Ginny than ever before if he weren’t so consumed by the realization that this felt far too much like a routine.

“Ginny, I’m scared,” George’s small voice broke the silence that Fred was thinking might just go on forever. 

“It was just a bad dream,” was Ginny’s response. 

“It’s not!” George cried. 

“It’s not,” Fred said solemnly. 

“It’s just a dream,” Ginny said again gently. “I’m here with you, okay?” 

“I’m sorry, George,” Fred said softly. 

“Look at me, George,” Ginny said insistently. 

George looked at Fred, then into Ginny’s face. “I can’t – I can’t do it,” he cried. “I can’t  _ do it, _ Ginny.” 

Ginny frowned. “Can’t do what, George?” 

George shook his head. “Can’t do it. Can’t do it.” 

“You’re not making sense,” Ginny said. “What do you need? What can I do for you?” 

George just keeled over and started sobbing, pressing his face into his pillow. His body was wracked with sobs. 

“Get Charlie!” Fred said desperately, then he swore loudly. “C’mon, Ginny, just hear me!” he shouted, but she didn’t. He considered shoving Ginny to get her attention but he knew that wouldn’t end well, and would likely only serve to make matters worse, so he decided against it. He swore again. “ _ George, _ just ask for Charlie.  _ Tell her to get – _ ”

“Charlie,” Ginny whispered, as she came to that conclusion on her own. 

“ _ Yes,  _ Ginny,” Fred said. “ _ Go, _ Ginny, get Charlie!” 

George’s shoulders still shook with the force of his sobs. He didn’t seem all too aware of what was going on around him. He wasn’t affected very much by Ginny letting go of him and racing out of the room. 

Fred bounded after her into the hallway and he didn’t know why. It wasn’t like he could be of any assistance. He supposed he just needed to feel like he was doing something – like he could do  _ anything  _ for George. 

Luna and Neville were sticking their heads out of Ginny’s bedroom, which was right next door to Fred and George’s –  _ just  _ George’s – bedroom. “Is everything –” Neville started. 

“No,” Ginny snapped and then ran up the stairs to the third floor. Fred hurried after her. She burst into Charlie’s bedroom, and he did the same at her heel. 

“Charlie!” Ginny said. 

Charlie grumbled. 

Ginny shook her brother until he was fully awake. “Come  _ on!  _ Charlie!” 

“ _ Why? _ ” Charlie whined. “Why won’t you let me  _ sleep? _ ”

Ginny’s hands shook. “G-George –”

Charlie was suddenly wide awake. “What’s wrong with him?” 

“I think he had a nightmare,” Ginny said. 

“He’s had an  _ anxiety attack, _ ” Fred said. “Fucking  _ hear me! _ He’s having an anxiety attack!”

“Okay,” Charlie said, getting out of bed and to his feet. “I’m coming. Is he still in bed this time?” 

“Th-this time,” Fred murmured to himself, trying to process what he just heard. “Still in… bed.” 

Ginny nodded. She didn’t move from where she sat on the edge of Charlie’s bed. 

Charlie paused in the doorway. “How ‘bout you go to bed, Ginny?” 

She looked up at him slowly, then nodded again. “It’s just that I –” 

“You don’t need to explain,” Charlie said softly. “I get it. Get some sleep.” 

Ginny looked like she was trying to smile at him, but couldn’t. She nodded. 

Charlie turned and hurried down to George’s room, Fred following closely behind  _ him  _ now. Fred rushed around Charlie to reach George’s bedside, and he gasped when he found George’s bed empty. “Fuck, why’d I leave him alone?” Fred hissed. 

“George?” Charlie said from the doorway, drawing Fred’s attention to him. Fred followed Charlie’s gaze to the window and found George standing there. “What’re you doing there, George?” Charlie asked gently. 

George looked up, face still streaked with tears. He sniffled and his voice shook when he spoke. “F-flower fell off.” 

“Wh-what?” Charlie said. 

“Another f-flower fell off my plant,” George sighed and looked back at the purple plant on the windowsill. 

“Oh,” Charlie said. He slowly began making his way across the room. “It’ll grow back, though.” He stood beside George, in front of the plant, and smiled at his little brother. “Happens with mine all the time. It’s okay. Is that what’s bothering you?”

George sniffled again, then he started to cry very softly. 

Charlie didn’t talk right away, but after a little while he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

George choked on a sob and turned away from the windowsill. He looked all around the room until his eyes landed on Fred. Not that Charlie knew that’s what he was looking at, of course. To Charlie, it looked like George was looking at the bunk beds which he and Fred once shared. “I guess,” George started, sniffling. “I guess I’ve just realized how much I’ve been holding onto him.” 

Fred frowned. “I’m sorry, Georgie.” He’d lost count of how many times he’d had to say it in the past two days. He knew that it was too many. 

“I think I know what you’re talking about,” Charlie said. 

Fred laughed humorlessly because he really didn’t. 

George laughed as well because he  _ really didn’t.  _ “Do you?” he said. 

“Yeah,” Charlie said. “You still have all his stuff. The room’s still built for two. You have to face that every day. First thing when you wake up, last thing before you go to sleep.”

Fred and George looked at each other. Their mouths hung open because  _ shit,  _ that wasn’t what George meant at all but that  _ was  _ a really good point. “Well,” George said, sigh heavily.. “Not much to do about that right now. It’s late.”

“Sleep in my room tonight,” Charlie said. 

George looked at him. “Really?”

Charlie nodded. “C’mon,” he said. “Don’t know about you, but I’m fucking exhausted.” 

Without a backward glance at Fred, almost as if he’d forgotten that he was standing there, George followed Charlie out of the room, wiping his tears away as we went. He closed the door behind him, and Fred was left alone with only his thoughts and the furniture for company. 

***

George slept a little easier in Charlie’s room, but he was awake every twenty minutes or so worrying about Fred and feeling guilty about the way he had left him. (Also because Charlie snored.)

He was watching the light creep across the floor of Charlie’s bedroom as the sun rose. He wondered how long it would be before the sunlight reached the bed. He imagined that the light was the sun itself, coming to swallow him whole, and then just before it could he slipped out of bed and snuck downstairs to his own bedroom.

Fred watched George expectantly when he entered the room, but he didn’t dare speak first. His eyes were swollen and red, and he was sitting by the window again. 

George pondered on what to say for a long time, eventually settling on. “What are we gonna do, Freddie?”

Fred shook his head but didn’t say anything. 

“I guess our odds are pretty bad if  _ you're  _ speechless,” George sighed. That made Fred laugh. “I’ve been thinking, and maybe we can tackle something a little smaller than the nightmares first. Charlie’s right about the room. I… I need to get rid of your stuff. Some of it, at least. So, can we just start there? I feel like  – No, I  _ know  _ that would make a difference.”

“Would it…” Fred started, then hesitated, but went on, “help you?” 

George nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I really think it would.”

Fred nodded, too. “Then let’s do it.”

And so, without further discussion of the nightmares or Fred’s death, they set to work all morning. They started with the bed; it was easy enough. They stripped Fred’s bed down, George picked out a couple of his blankets and pillows to keep, and then George magically Transfigured the bed from a bunk bed to a single bed. They even moved it to a new spot in the room for a real change of pace. The clothes were also easy enough to sort through; they set aside the majority of jeans and trousers then spent time going through Fred’s sweaters. 

“Why would you keep my Christmas sweater from  _ first year? _ ” Fred said. 

“I don’t know,” George said. “Memories?”

“You can’t wear it, though,” Fred said. 

“I don’t know that I’ll ever wear any of them,” George said. “Don’t know if I could bear it.” 

“Then why keep any of them?” Fred asked. 

“I… I don’t know,” George said, and then he seemed to lose himself in thought. “Memories…” he said again. “I guess,” he added eventually. 

Fred hummed. “Fair enough. What about this one? Never liked it myself.”

“Yeah, well, green isn't your color,” George said, smirking. “Me, on the other hand? I look fabulous in green.”

They laughed together. Fred balled up the sweater and tossed it at George’s head.

They finished up with clothes and moved promptly onto books, but they didn’t get very much done before Molly came knocking. “George,” she said, poking her head into the room. “Lunch is on the table if you’d like to – Oh! I didn’t know you’d started… started sorting through…” she trailed off and fell silent, unable to finish her thought out loud. 

George looked up at her. “Oh, um, yeah... You were saying about lunch?”

“Oh, yes,” Molly said distractedly. “It’s… it’s on the table. Everyone’s heading down now. I need to, um… I need to wake Ginny and her friends. They’re still, uh, asleep…” she trailed off again, looking around the room. “But, um...” she finally looked back at George. “Will you join us for lunch, then, dear?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right down,” George said. 

“Great, I’ll go get Ginny and –” She was cut off by the sound of a stack of books tumbling to the floor and scattering across the room. Though Molly had not seen it happen, Fred had been getting to his feet from his sitting position on the floor, but he stumbled and knocked over a tall stack of books. “Oh, my!” Molly cried. 

“ _ Shit! _ ” Fred said, catching his balance and backing away from the fallen books in a huff. 

George laughed then quickly tried to cover it with a cough. “Um, weird that things like that keep happening. I’m gonna pick these up and then I’ll be down.”

“Okay, George, but –” 

“I’ll wake Ginny and them. Be down in a few Mum.” 

“All – all right,” Molly said, nodding. “Thank you.” She paused. “Can you… can you just  _ mention  _ to Ginny that… that Harry is still here.” 

George snorted but, once again, covered it with a cough. “Right, yeah, I’ll be sure to let her know.” 

Fred was roaring with laughter. 

Molly, looking relieved at the prospect of not having to break the news to Ginny herself, smiled and mouthed,  _ Thank you,  _ as she backed out of the room. For the moment, at least, she seemed to have forgotten about the books. 

“Sorry,” Fred said, frowning when Molly was gone. 

George only laughed again, then said, “Can’t believe Harry’s still here.”

Fred’s face broke into a grin. “Ginny’s gonna be  _ pissed. _ ” 

“Let’s wake her, I s’pose.”

“What time is it, anyway?”

“Past noon.”

“She’s still asleep?” 

George shrugged. He and Fred headed out into the hallway and over to Ginny’s room. He poked his head in the room and found Ginny, Luna, and Neville huddled together on Ginny’s bed and speaking in whispered voices. “So you  _ are  _ up,” he said.

“What do you want?” Ginny grumbled. 

“Lunch is on the table,” George said. “Mum wants us all to come down.”

Ginny groaned, but Luna pulled her out of bed, complaining that she was  _ famished _ . Ginny gave in, and Neville followed closely, proclaiming that he too was hungry.

“Mum gave me a warning to pass on to you,” George said, taking up as much of the doorway as he could so that Ginny had to listen to him before she left. 

“Does she now?” Ginny crossed her arms and flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Harry’s still here then, is he?” 

George raised his eyebrows. “How’d you know?” 

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I know my mother is all.” She pushed past George and marched downstairs, her eyes downcast until she had Neville and Luna seated on either side of her. 

“Can I sit with you?” George whispered to his older brother. 

“Yeah,” Charlie said, making room for him.

George sat down, started making himself a plate, and fell into conversation with Charlie. He chanced a glance behind him to see if Fred had followed him all the way to the kitchen and, sure enough, he was there, leaning against the counter and observing the table. 

Partway through lunch, when conversation had just begun to die down and everyone’s plates were being cleared away, Pigwidgeon fluttered into the kitchen through the open window over the sink. He carried two envelopes, one clasped in each tiny talon, the first of which was dropped into Ron’s outstretched palm. 

“Thanks, Pig,” Ron said. 

Pigwidgeon hooted, dropped the second letter into George’s lap, then perched himself on top of the fridge and looked extremely proud of himself. 

“What’s that, then?” Fred asked. 

George shrugged and pulled the envelope open, determined to ignore how familiar the handwriting across the front of it looked. He yanked the letter out and read: 

_ Dear George,  _

_ It was so lovely to see you and talk to you last night. Thank you again for agreeing to have lunch with me. I am just reaching out to you, as promised, to schedule that lunch. I am free as soon as tomorrow. Otherwise, I am free from noon until one o'clock every day in the coming week except for Tuesday. I am really looking forward to getting to talk with you some more.  _

_ Best, Percy _

Fred let out a low, “ _ No. _ ” 

“Are you reading over my shoulder?” George snapped without thinking, and everyone around the table looked at him very suddenly.  _ Oh, shit,  _ he said inwardly. 

“Um,” Charlie said slowly, shooting George a weird look out of the corner of his eye. “N-no. No, I was not.” 

“Are you okay, George?” Arthur asked. 

“Y-yeah,” George said quickly. “I just – I thought – never mind. Sorry, Charlie. I got a letter from Percy!” he cried in a desperate attempt to change the subject. It worked. 

“Oh, how lovely!” Molly cried while Ginny grumbled angrily. 

“Oh, did you?” Charlie said absently, and suddenly he was altogether disinterested in the conversation.

“So did I,” Ron added. 

“What’s Percy got to say?” Arthur asked, trying to sound in a bright mood about it. 

Neither Ron nor George answered.

“Well?” Molly said expectantly. “Boys?”

Ron cleared his throat. “Um, well,” he said, “I’m having breakfast with him on Wednesday.” 

The table burst in a flurry of emotions. Arthur, in his forced bright tone, said, “Oh!” while Molly burst into tears, crying, “That’s wonderful!” Ginny just grumbled angrily once more. 

George was the only one who saw Fred turn to face Ron and angrily shout, “Traitor!” but everyone’s eyes were drawn to Ron as his lasagna burst like confetti in his face. 

Ron leaped back from the table, shouting and swiping sauce out of his eyes. Arthur, Molly, and Hermione all jumped up and rushed to help while Harry, Ginny, and Charlie (and Fred) laughed loudly. “Oi!” Ron shouted at the three that he could hear laughing at him. “It’s not funny! It  _ stings!  _ My eyes  _ sting! _ ”

George felt on the verge of tears watching the scene at hand.

“Just be still, Ron –  _ stand still,  _ Ron!” Molly said insistently. She pointed her wand at Ron when he finally did as she said. “ _ Scourgify! _ ” she said. 

All of the sauce, beef, and pasta that covered Ron’s face, hair, and shirt cleaned itself off of him and dumped back onto his plate. The plate then flew itself over to the sink and plopped itself into the soapy water. 

“Anywho,” Arthur said, again trying to keep the mood of the room bright. (Harry, Neville, and Luna, for their part, only looked a  _ little bit  _ lost.) “George, what’s Percy got to say to you?” he asked, smiling with too many teeth as he sat back down in his chair. 

George didn’t answer at first. He stared down at the letter for a long while and then when he finally looked up, he took a deep breath before he said, “I – um –” he swallowed hard. “I’m having lunch with Percy,” he said. He stood up. “Tomorrow,” he said. “I need to write him back right away. Excuse me.” He turned and faced Fred, whose expression was indescribable. George couldn’t tell exactly what Fred was feeling and he almost always could, even in the past couple of days. 

Pushing this thought from his mind, George passed Fred by and marched up the stairs without looking back. In his bedroom, he sat down at his desk, pushing books out of the way. He rifled through all of the drawers, looking for a loose piece of parchment. He found an old box half-full of bright pink parchment from when he and Fred used to send joke mail on Valentine’s Day. He smiled, then searched a little more. When he had a quill and ink, he set to work. 

“You  _ cannot  _ be serious about this!” Fred yelled when he burst into the room. 

“Shut up,” George hissed. 

“Tomorrow?! Really?!” Fred yelled. “That’s so soon!”

“ _ I said shut up. _ ”    
“I can’t believe this! After all we’ve been through! He’s been a pain in the arse since the very beginning!  _ Why  _ would you go to lunch with him?”

Ginny, Luna, and Neville chattered loudly as they passed by the door that Fred had left wide open, returning to Ginny’s room.

George huffed. He got up, crossed the room, and shut the door.

“Can’t we talk about this? I mean this is –”

“Fred, would you just shut the fuck up for two minutes so I can focus?” 

Fred was stunned into silence. He huffed and flopped dramatically onto George’s bed. 

George returned to his desk, dipped his quill in some ink, and wrote:

_ Percy,  _

_ I’m free tomorrow. Meet me here at the Burrow at noon?  _

_ — G _

He sealed up the envelope, wrote Percy’s name across the front of it, then he got up and made for the door. 

“Hey, wait just a second!” Fred shouted but George was already in the hallway. 

“Ron!” George called, bounding down the stairs. 

Ron came around the corner from the kitchen, his mouth full of toast. “Yeah?” he said, crumbs falling down the front of his shirt. 

“Please stop talking with your mouth full, Ronald,” Hermione sighed as she was passing into the living room. 

Ron rolled his eyes after her and George wondered, not for the first time, how exactly they made their relationship work. “ _ Anyway, _ ” George said loudly, pulling Ron’s attention back to him. “Can I borrow Pig? I need to answer Percy’s letter.” 

“Yeah,” Ron said. “He’s in the kitchen. Just make sure you’re nice about it. He’s real touchy.” He paused, then asked, “Hey, um, do you think Ginny’ll stay mad at us for long?” 

George shrugged. “Ginny? Who knows.” 

Ron laughed. “Fair enough,” he said. “I’ve been thinking… I don’t know. Obviously, I’m not Percy’s biggest fan, by any means. I wouldn’t be  _ thrilled  _ if I he started coming round again. I just wouldn’t be  _ mad  _ about it, either.”

“I would,” Fred said in a low voice. “I’d be  _ pissed. _ ”

“Yeah,” George spoke over Fred, even though Ron couldn’t hear him. “Well  –  I’m going to answer Percy, yeah?” 

Ron nodded. “‘kay,” he said, and continued to the sitting room. Moments later, George and Fred could hear an argument breaking out between Ron and Hermione again. 

George marched to the kitchen. “Erm,” he said as he approached Pigwidgeon. “Hello, Pig.  Could you please deliver this letter to Percy Weasley? Er – I would be ever so grateful.” 

Pigwidgeon puffed up his feathers and looked very dutiful as he took the letter and zoomed out the window. 

George turned and was faced with Fred, who was standing in the doorway. His face was bright red. “After all he’s put the family through,” Fred said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you’re just going to lunch with him, without a second thought!” 

“That’s not fair,” George said. 

“Remember how Mum  _ sobbed  _ when Percy left? And when he sent Dad that letter? And when he sent that Christmas sweater back?”

“Mum wants him back in the family.” 

“Mum doesn’t know what’s good for her.” 

“I can’t just ignore it.”

“Ignore  _ what? _ ” 

“You know.” 

“I don’t.” 

George shifted uncomfortably. “I… I can’t, Fred.” 

“Can’t what? What is it? What is it about  _ Percy  _ that could ever make you want to speak to him again?”

George swallowed hard. “He was.... he was with you when you died,” he said, voice shaking and barely louder than a whisper. “You said yourself that you can’t remember your death, or a lot of stuff that happened in the days before you died, right? You don’t remember him showing up at Hogwarts. You don’t remember him coming to fight. You don’t remember him being with you in your last – your l-last moments. So, it’s not fair to say I’m seeing him tomorrow without a second thought ‘cause I’ve thought about it –  _ a lot. _ ”

“You’ve thought about me dying and him being there, sure, but not sitting down for a chat with him! Not letting him –” 

“Yes. That. I have.” 

“Since when.” 

“I don’t know. A couple of months.” 

Fred crossed his arms. “You haven't mentioned  _ this _ in the three days I’ve been here.” 

“Two and a half.” 

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” 

“I didn’t tell you ‘cause I knew this is how you’d react.” 

“‘Cause I’m right.”

“ _ Fred. _ ”

“I still can’t see why you’d want to –”

“Because it feels like the right thing to do.” 

Fred blinked. “I’m not following.” 

“Well, I don’t know how else to put it.” George shrugged his shoulders. “I… I really don’t. He was…  _ with you _ … when you…  _ died. _ ”

“So what?!” Fred said. 

George huffed. He went to the door and checked that no one was listening from the hallway. It would be  _ really  _ hard to explain what they were overhearing. He turned back to Fred. “ _ So _ , Fred, I wasn’t. I wasn’t there and I don’t know what you did or what you said or even what happened really –”

“Neither do I!” Fred threw his hands in the air. 

“I don’t even know what your last words were. You talked and talked and talked all your life and I don’t know what the very last thing you said was.” 

“I don’t either. What does that matter?” 

“Percy  _ does. _ ”

Fred stilled and his eyes narrowed. “Hang on,” he said. “Let me make sure I’ve got this right. You don’t want to talk about how I died or when I died. You’re having these nightmares that are telling you exactly what you need to do but you won’t do it. You’ll hardly even talk about it. But you want to talk about how I died with  _ Percy?  _ You’ll talk about how I died with  _ Percy  _ but not with  _ me? _ ”

“Well,” George said slowly. “Well,  _ yeah.  _ Maybe. ‘Cause, you’re the one who died. That’d be –”

“I’ve heard enough,” Fred cut him off. 

“I can’t believe you’re this angry about –”

“I can’t believe you’d ever  _ think  _ about –”

The kitchen door swung open. “O-oh!” Harry cried. “Sorry, George, I didn’t know you were in here.” 

George quickly composed himself. He wiped his face, wiping away tears he did not remember crying. “Hi, Harry,” he said, clearing his throat.

Fred backed himself against a wall so that Harry would not run into him. 

“S-sorry,” George said. 

“Are you okay?” Harry asked. 

“I’m just having a moment,” George said, trying hard to laugh off the whole situation. “Are you heading out?” 

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I’ve got homework to do.” 

“Oh, homework. I remember  _ that. _ ” 

“Yeah.” 

Fred grimaced. “This is the driest conversation.” 

“Anyway,” Harry said eventually. “See you around.” 

“See you, Harry,” George said. When he was gone, he looked back at Fred who was still fuming. “Look,” he sighed, “is it really that big a deal? It’s not like you’ve got to come with me. You don’t have to talk to him. Couldn’t if you wanted to. So what’s the big deal?” 

“The big fucking deal is that I’ve been stuck sorting sweaters and blankets all morning because you won’t talk about this,” Fred snapped. “Not even to help me _move on,_ to the next life or the next realm or whatever _._ But you’ll talk about it with _Percy?_ ” He scoffed. 

“Well, did you ever consider I might be able to _do_ that with _Percy?_ ” George snapped right back. “Talk about it. Work through it _with Percy._ Maybe I could. Maybe that’s why I _haven’t_ yet. Because it’s Percy and I’m scared to see him but what if that’s what I need? Maybe you’re right about the fucking cats, Fred, but if you are then _Percy_ can give me more answers than you can.” 

Fred and George stared at each other for a few more moments, and then Fred stormed out the door and across the yard. George watched him through the doorway, but didn’t follow him outside. Fred hesitated for a moment, but then he took off toward the sky. 

George stayed where he was, leaning against the kitchen table. He thought maybe he should go out into the yard and see where he’d gone, but he didn’t. He stood still and wondered if Fred was flying in circles around the Burrow or if he’d flown away and was never coming back. 

Deciding it wasn’t worth it and that Fred would come back eventually, George wiped away the last of his tears and he marched away. He went up the stairs and into the hallway that he and Fred had shared with Percy and Ginny for most of their lives. He passed by his own room and knocked on Ginny’s door. 

The door swung open. “I  _ won’t  _ apologize! She can’t make me!” Ginny yelled in his face. 

George only blinked. “ _ What? _ ” 

Ginny frowned. “Oh, did Mum not send you to talk to me?”

“ _ No, _ ” George said. “She didn’t. Why would she do that?” 

“Sorry,” Ginny said, and she stepped aside. “Come in.” 

George stepped into Ginny’s room and she closed the door behind him. 

Neville was lounging on Ginny’s bed. “Hey, what’s up?” he greeted. 

“Oh, hello, George,” Luna said in an airier tone than usual. She was lounging in Ginny’s armchair. 

Ginny perched herself on the arm of the chair and started braiding Luna’s hair, though the braid looked terribly crooked. “‘Sup, George?” she said. 

George looked around the room for a few more seconds before crossing his arms and smirking. “You’re all stoned,” he laughed. 

“Duh,” Ginny said. 

Luna laughed. 

“Want some?” Neville said. 

“ _ Fuck,  _ yes,” George said. 

Neville got up from the bed and fished through his backpack. He held out a joint that was half-smoked and handed it off to George. George took it to the window and opened it, then took out his wand to light the joint. 

“What’s bugging  _ you? _ ” Ginny said. 

George laughed, which turned into coughing. “So much,” he said. “You?” 

“Already said,” Ginny huffed. “Mum wants me to apologize to fucking Percy. I won’t do it.”

“For threatening to turn him into a tea kettle?” George said, smirking again. He took another hit. 

“I’ve seen Ginny Transfigure a tea kettle,” Luna said. “She makes a  _ lovely _ tea kettle.” 

“Why’d you even tell her you said it?” George asked. 

“To piss her off,” Ginny said. 

“Well,” George said, shrugging. “That worked, didn’t it.”

Ginny groaned. She got up and crossed the room, taking the joint from George and taking a hit. She handed it back. “I’m moving out as soon as I graduate,” she grumbled. 

George smiled. “Good for you, kid,” he said. 

“Don’t call me that,” Ginny huffed, snatching the joint back. 

Then Luna said, “Let’s play Gobstones!” and they moved on as simply as that, because none of them could bear to talk about unpleasant matters at the moment, and because they were too high to focus on one thing for very long. That afternoon, they just played Gobstones. 

***

After dinner was over, and the dishes washed and dried and put away, George still hadn’t seen any sign of Fred since their fight after lunch. George still refused to go looking for him, however, maintaining that Fred would come back on his own eventually. 

Hermione left after dinner, but Luna and Neville stuck around. 

George was leaning back in his chair, thinking to himself that he might as well just go to bed because he had nothing better to do when Charlie came over and tapped him on the shoulder. “Come on a walk with me?” he asked George. 

“Oh,” George said. “Yeah, sure.” He and Charlie got their shoes on and headed out. They stopped and chatted with Ginny, Luna, and Neville, who were lounging in the yard, and then headed on their way. They traveled in silence down the path that wound through the woods for some time.

When they’d traveled halfway to the stream that they liked to sit at, Charlie said, “Mum asked me to talk to you about something,” he said. 

George looked at him, frowning. “What? Why?” He wracked his brains, trying to figure out what she possibly could have asked Charlie to say to him. “Does this have to do with the Ginny and Percy thing ‘cause I really don’t –”

“What Ginny and Percy thing?”

“Mum wants Ginny to apologize to Percy.”

“For what?”

“For what she said to him.”

“What’d she say to him?”

“She said she’d turn him into a tea kettle if he ever spoke to her again.”

Charlie stopped to double over and laugh. He clutched his stomach. “Oh!” he cried. “That’s great! That’s bloody brilliant!” 

George smirked, and couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. “It’s pretty fantastic,” he said. “But she went and told Mum, and Mum says Ginny’s got to apologize to Percy.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” Charlie sighed. 

“Did he… did he ask you?” George said. 

“Huh?” Charlie looked at him, puzzled, then sighed. “Oh, Percy. Yeah, he did. Asked me and Bill both to  _ brunch. _ ”

“And… and what did you say?” George sounded uncertain. 

“Um… now, this is not something I’d particularly like Mum to hear about, mind you,” Charlie sighed. “I’m not quite as brave as Ginny in that respect. But, um, if you must know… I told him that if our parents wanted to pretend like the past three years didn’t happen, then that was their business, but I want nothing to do with him.” 

George nodded slowly. “Makes sense,” he said softly. 

Without talking about it out loud, the two of them looked at each other, nodded once, and then started walking again, traveling further down the path. 

“So Ginny and I insulted him,” Charlie said. “Ron’s having breakfast with him. And you’re having lunch with him tomorrow, right?” 

“Please don’t be mad at me,” George said, avoiding Charlie’s eye. 

“Why would I be  _ mad _ at you?” 

“Fred w–” he stopped and cursed himself – he cursed himself a thousand times over and wondered how he could be so stupid. “– w- _ would. _ Fred would be so mad. If he knew.” 

Charlie looked at George for a long time, until he stumbled over a tree branch because he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going. He caught his balance, shook himself, and said, “Y’know what, George?” 

George didn’t know. “What?” 

“You’ve suffered enough,” Charlie said. “You’ve suffered so much,  _ lost  _ so much. You’ve earned some… some  _ peace.  _ So if peace means making up with Percy for you, then make up with Percy. Or agree to see him just to yell at him. Or curse him. Or ignore him. Or listen to him. Do whatever you need to do. As long as we’re not hurting anybody, everyone should be able to do what they need to do.” 

George frowned. He wanted to say more, but Charlie went on. 

“Bill and I got in a fight last night.”

George frowned even deeper. “What? You two never fight.” 

“He thinks we should all welcome Percy back with open arms, no questions asked. He can’t believe I won’t meet up with him.” Charlie shook his head. 

“Wonder what he’ll say about Ginny,” George mused. 

Charlie laughed. “I’d pay to see him find out, but I’ll bet you Mum has already sent him an owl to complain about it.” 

“Yeah,” George sighed. 

They came to the stream, took their shoes off, and sat upon the grass. George dipped his toes into the running water. Charlie sat back, just a little. “How have you been, George? How have those nightmares been?” 

“Is that what Mum wants you to talk to me about?” George looked back at him sharply. 

Charlie frowned. “Not exactly,” he said. “No.” He sighed but inched toward George so that he could sit closer to him. “Y’know how the sugar jar exploded the other day? And how Ron’s food exploded in his face at lunch?”

George nodded. “I do. Pretty memorable.”

“Yes. Well, Mum was telling me about something similar that happened in your room.” 

“Oh, I probably just had those books stacked too high,” George said quickly. “They were bound to fall sometime.” 

“And the plant?” Charlie said. “She said it was smashed against a wall, across the room from the window where you keep it?” 

“I – I don’t –” George swallowed hard. “What are you asking me, Charlie? What are you getting at?” 

Charlie frowned. “I’m not accusing you of anything,” he said in a gentle tone. “Hey,” he said. He reached out to touch George’s arm (and only then did George realize how hard he was shaking). “I just want to know how you’re doing, like I said, that’s all.” 

“You – you want to – ?” George shook his head. “I don’t understand. I don’t – I don’t know why those things keep happening.” 

“I know, George,” Charlie said quickly, nodding. “Just… listen to me.” He paused a moment. He took a deep breath. “It’s not a very common thing. But… Mum and Dad and I were talking and, well…” he paused again and cleared his throat, clearly reluctant to get to his point. “Mum was saying it happened to Grandma a bit after Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon died, just here and there for a couple weeks. Dad’s department at work heard about it happening to some bloke while he was in a Muggle shop. I saw it happen to a man in Romania who lost both of his parents in the same week. You won’t see it very often, but when it happens, it’s always because a witch or wizard is in terrible anguish. Almost always, it’s grief that makes it happen.” 

“Makes  _ what  _ happen? You still haven’t said!” 

Charlie looked away. 

“Charlie!” 

“Makes you lose control of your magic,” Charlie blurted out. “Like when you’re a kid.” 

_ They think it’s me making those things happen.  _ When it finally hit him, George was actually relieved. Sure, this wasn’t a stellar alternative, but George had been convinced for a few minutes that his family had figured out what was going on – that they knew Fred was in the house, and that they knew George was hiding it from them. 

“George?” Charlie said. 

_ Right.  _ He needed to respond somehow. “Er,” he said. “I… I think it’s  _ reasonable  _ to assume that’s what’s happening, then.” 

“Right…” Charlie said. “So, are… are you okay? I mean, in all of those cases it happened within days, if not hours. The man in the shop – his wife died just that morning. But with you... It’s been –”

“ _ Three months, _ ” George gritted out. “I know. Why does everyone think I should be over it after  _ three bloody months? _ ” 

“I was only trying to say that it’s odd, this loss of control over your magic, because in all the cases we know about it started so quickly.” He frowned. “George,  _ who  _ is expecting you to be over it already?” 

George wanted to say that it was Fred. He wanted to tell Charlie everything and ask his big brother what to do in an impossible situation even though Charlie wouldn’t know any more than he did. He almost did. 

Instead, George sighed and said, “No one.” 

Charlie didn’t look like he believed him. 

“ _ Me _ ,” George said. 

Charlie frowned. Then, slowly, he wrapped his arm around George’s shoulders and pulled him into a side hug. “It’s okay. None of us think you need to be over it, okay?” He paused. “Just… just take your time.” 

George nodded. “Thanks, Charlie.” He paused. “But what… what if I can never get over it?”

“None of us think you need to be  _ over it, _ ” Charlie said. “Ever. We just… we all just want you to find a way to move past it. To move on, and live your life. But that’ll take time. And that’s okay. There’s no rush.” 

“But how’ll I live if I never get over it?” George shook his head. “How am I supposed to live like this, Charlie?”

Charlie frowned. “I… I don’t know.” He hugged his little brother tighter. “But I’m here for you. No matter what.” 

Despite himself, George smiled. Charlie had always secretly been both George and Fred’s favorite brother, apart from one another, and damn it all to hell if Charlie couldn’t make George feel at least a little bit better. 


	5. take my face (and desecrate)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George goes to lunch with Percy and then realizes he needs to get his life together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: nightmares
> 
> (Also, new story title!!!)

George finished sorting through Fred’s books by himself. He set aside anything that he already had his own copy of to be donated and kept everything else, then readied for bed. 

It only dawned on George when he was climbing beneath his blankets that he was actually going to lunch with _Percy_ the next day. He suddenly found himself wishing that he’d turned down Percy’s invitation and he strongly considered feigning illness and sending an owl. 

George flopped his head down on his pillow and looked up at the underside of Fred’s bed. Only, it wasn’t there. “Of course it isn’t,” he sighed. “You got rid of it, idiot.” He frowned and an uneasy feeling settled in his stomach as he found himself staring, instead, at the ceiling. 

Somehow, this was worse than Fred’s bed being there. When it was there, it was only a constant reminder of Fred himself; now that it was gone, it was a constant reminder that Fred was never coming home. 

Unable to bear the sight any longer, George pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes until he could see fireworks behind his eyelids. He stayed that way for a while, then sighed. 

_If I cancel on Percy, Fred will think he’s won,_ George reasoned with himself, and so, he decided that he would go despite the anxiety it was causing him. He wondered if Fred the Ghost was ever coming home. 

George’s mind lingered on his brother’s ghost for a few moments, asking himself the same tired questions once more: How could he do magic, and why couldn’t he control it? Why was George the only one able to see him? What if there was no way for him to move on to an afterlife? And what if there _was_ a way to send him to an afterlife but George wasn’t able to do it?

But his thoughts soon fell away. Still there, but distant. He was melting into his mattress, falling into his mattress, falling through a void of deep black unconsciousness until –

– _he was actually falling; falling from the sky, screaming as the ground grew closer and closer. “AAAHHH!!!” He fell and fell until he landed upright on a broomstick. He grabbed onto the broomstick’s handle quickly._

_“As I was saying,” someone next to him said._

_George jolted and looked to his left where he found Not Fred was flying on a broomstick beside him._

_“Now that Charlie’s not coming to interrupt,” Not Fred grumbled. “Follow me.” Then he whipped around in the air and raced toward the lights of the school that glowed in the distance._

_“Wait!” George cried. “Wait a second!”_

_Not Fred had already zoomed out of sight._

_George groaned but hurried after his brother’s imposter. He leaned on the grass beside him._

_“C’mon,” Not Fred snapped at him then headed toward the castle, taking the journey in long strides. George struggled to keep up with him. He pushed the great double doors open and strutted into the entrance hall. His shoes clicked on the ground and the sound echoed in the emptiness._

_George lingered at the castle’s entrance for as long as he could. Not Fred didn’t come back to bother him like usual, but eventually, his feet moved of their own accord, the way they do sometimes in dreams. He came to the Great Hall’s entrance and paused again, his gaze drawn to the center of the room._

_It was shocking how still Fred was lying on the floor; just as shocking as it had been in May when it had been real. “Not real, not real,” he murmured. His body shook all over and he couldn’t stop himself from walking over to where his brother laid. It was as if someone else controlled his legs and he was just stuck in his head, forced to watch. “F-Fred,” he said miserably. “Fred,_ no. _”_

_Not Fred started whispering around George, but he was still nowhere to be seen. George whipped his head around, looking for him, but to no avail. Eventually, his gaze landed back on where Fred was laid down on the floor._

_“Wake up,” George hissed at himself._

_Not Fred laughed coldly somewhere far away. “Trying_ that _again, are we?”_

 _“Wake_ up, _” George told himself more firmly this time. “C’mon. Wake up.”_

_“Are you talking to him or yourself?” Not Fred taunted._

_“Me,” George said. “_ Me. _Wake up!”_

_“Go on, then,” Not Fred cackled. “Do it. Wake up, Georgie!” He laughed again as he materialized at George’s side and yanked George to his feet. “Wake up to what? D’you think he’s gonna be alive when you wake up? Huh?”_

_George shook his head. “No, I don’t_ – _I just want to_ – _”_

_“Wanna wake up and see Freddie?” Not Fred said. “He’s not alive but he’s there, isn’t he?” He started tutting. “Oh, that’s right. You’re wasting time fighting me, aren’t you?”_

_“Not you!”_

_“Whatever,” Not Fred snapped. “Wake up. You don’t believe I’m dead.”_

_“I do_ – _it’s not you_ – _”_

 _“‘Cause, you didn’t see_ – _”_

 _“I don’t want to_ – _”_

_Not Fred grabbed George by the shoulders and pulled him close. “Oh, but you will,” he spat into George’s ear. “Believe me. You will. Now… WAKE UP!”_

George sat bolt right up in bed and was faced with Ginny who was yelling, “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” 

“W-what?” George frowned. “What is it?”

“ _Percy’s_ here,” Ginny huffed, crossing her arms. 

“Why?” George asked, rubbing the sleeping out of his eyes. 

“Um…” Ginny raised her eyebrows. “To see you?”

“Oh, shit!” George leaped out of bed. “I forgot to set an alarm! Shit, shit, shit!” 

Ginny sat down on his bed. “Don’t know why you’re seeing him anyway.”

George frowned as he was pulling on a pair of jeans. “Ginny, I really don’t want to –”

“No, no, no,” Ginny said, waving her hand at him. “Charlie already warned me not to bug you about it. Besides, as long as you don’t expect _me_ to talk to him, I don’t care much about what you do.”

“And I don’t,” George said as he was pulling on a t-shirt. “Ever. If you never talk to him again, I don’t care a wit.”

Ginny smiled, stood up, and punched George’s arm lightly. “Well, as long as we’re on the same page,” she said. “Enjoy lunch.” 

“Thanks,” George said. “I’ll try. Your friends are gone?”

“Yeah,” Ginny said. “They’re coming again next weekend.”

“That’s nice,” George said. “I like them a lot. I like Luna a lot.”

Ginny smiled again. “Well, I’m glad.” She shoved him. “Percy’s waiting and you know how he can get. We’ll talk more later?”

“Yeah,” George said. “See ya.”

“See you later.”

George rushed downstairs. He stepped into his shoes and was heading through the kitchen when someone called out, “Georgie, wait.” 

George looked around at the kitchen table where his mother was sitting alone. “Hi, Mum. What’s up?”

Molly got up and came toward George. “I know that you haven’t always gotten along with Percy,” she said. “I understand if you find it hard to forgive him, and I even understand if you can’t quite find it in you to forgive him all the way.”

“Okay,” George said slowly. “Thanks?”

“I just want you to know that –” she paused and cupped George’s face in her hands. “Oh, dear heart, thank you for giving him a chance. For – for just hearing him out.” 

George nodded. “Yeah, Mum, ‘course.” 

Molly smiled. “And did… did Charlie talk to you about – ?”

“Yeah, Mum,” George said. “I… I’ve got to go right now, though, okay? Percy’s waiting.” 

“Right, yes,” Molly said. “Of course.”

George frowned awkwardly. “I’ll see you later,” he said then he hurried out the door. “Percy!” he cried. “Sorry, I’m late.” 

“No worries,” Percy said. He held out his arm. “Shall we?”

George awkwardly took Percy’s arm. “Er – where are we going?”

“Little place in London. I made a reservation.”

The place the Percy had chosen for them to dine was quaint and quiet. The entire menu sounded delicious, just the sort of food that George enjoyed most. He had to admit that this restaurant had been an excellent choice on Percy’s part, but it didn’t make for very good conversation since George had such a hard time deciding what he was going to eat. 

Eventually, however, George had to decide because their waitress came round for a third time to ask if they were ready to order. He and Percy both placed their orders for lunch and then they were faced with nothing left to do but look at each other; talk to one another. 

“Er – pretty good weather we’ve been having, wouldn’t you say?” Percy said. “I would.”

“Um, yeah,” George said. “It’s… good.” 

Percy hummed. “How is the shop doing?”

George sighed. “Haven’t re-opened it just yet,” he said. 

“Oh. Sorry.” 

George hummed. “Don’t be.” He cleared his throat. “Um… How have _you_ been, Percy?” 

“Oh, I’m good,” Percy said and he nodded. “Yeah, I’m… I’m _great._ ”

“Are you still seeing… er… Penelope?” George asked. 

“Oh, no, no,” Percy said, shaking his head now. “Pen and I are good friends now, but we broke up a while back.” 

“Ah, I see,” George said. 

“That’s sort of what I wanted to talk about,” Percy said. “But, first, I need to say…” he paused. He took several deep breaths. “I need to say that I am _sorry,_ George.” 

George was somewhat taken aback. Despite the rather meek demeanor that Percy had during his visit to the Burrow, George still had not expected any sort of apology from Percy during this lunch. Of course, now he was all ears – he considered making a joke about only having one ear, but he really couldn’t bear to interrupt Percy during what was likely the first apology in his life. 

“The way that I have treated our family these past few years, it’s not been fair to any of you. I am sorry.” 

George blinked. “And?” 

Percy blinked back. “A-and?” 

“How about how you treated us _before_ you tried to disown yourself?” 

“I – I got along with almost everyone, I think,” Percy said. “All families have their arguments, don’t they?” 

“You thought you were _better_ than all of us,” George said. “You thought you were golden and our family was average. You thought I was an idiot, and you thought _Fred_ –”

“George.”

“What was it you called him the last time the three of us spoke?” 

“The last time that the three of us spoke was when I arrived at Hogwarts before the Battle.”

“Right. The time before that then. You called Fred –” 

“George, I said I’m sorry.” 

“You said you’re sorry for how you treated _the family_ for the past few years. I want to know what you are for treating me and Fred like we were inconvenient to you.”

“You weren’t _inconvenient!_ ” 

“You’re right, that’s not the right word. No, Percy, you treated us like you were ashamed of us.” 

“I – I –” Percy tried to find the right words. He could not. 

George narrowed his eyes at him. “Oh, fuck,” he said. “You _were_ ashamed of us and you can’t even lie about it!” 

“No, I was n–” 

“Yes, you were. But we knew that back then. I can’t believe you can’t even lie about it. I can’t believe you can’t even muster a _fake_ ‘No, I’m not ashamed of you and our dead brother.’”

“ _George,_ ” Percy hissed. “Stop it.” 

“For the love of _Merlin._ ” George rolled his eyes. “ _Why,_ Percy? _Why’d_ you treat me and Fred like we were –” 

“George.” 

“And Fred worse than me.” 

“ _George._ ” 

“You called him a piece of scum the last time we spoke – _before_ the Battle!”

“I know, okay? I know. I regret it every day but it happened. Mind you that was two years ago and you were –” he cut himself off. 

“What?”

“Nothing.” 

“ _Say it!_ ” 

“You two weren’t the easiest to get along with, you know.” 

“Oh, _we_ weren’t easy to get along with. That’s rich.” 

“You deliberately tried to make my life difficult.”

“Why’d you wanna have lunch with me, then?” George sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “If I’m _so difficult,_ why’d you wanna have lunch with me so bad?” 

“George, I didn’t mean –”

“Difficult _and_ hard to get along with, huh?”

“Well, it was more so Fred than you –”

George barked out a laugh, short and sharp. “Bloody hell. Do you ever stop and think for a second before you open your mouth or is it all just pouring out at the speed of thought?” 

“Wha– no, I didn’t mean to disrespect Fred’s m- _memory_ or anything,” Percy amended quickly. “I’m sorry, George, I didn’t –” 

“Didn’t mean to,” George snapped. “You never mean to. How come you never _mean to_ do anything?” 

Percy didn’t answer. 

“Why’d you wanna have lunch with me?” 

Percy still refused to answer. 

“Why are you trying to talk with all of us?” 

“There it is,” Percy said. “It’s always been all of you, hasn’t it. And I don’t get to be included in that. It’s all of you against me.” 

“We’re not against you. You excluded yourself and you know it.”

“I don’t mean the past two years, or at Hogwarts. I mean when we were _kids._ ”

“So do I. You wanted to be alone, always did, and you didn’t like the rest of us one bit, except for Bill, and maybe Ron. Ginny on occasion, perhaps.” George shook his head. “You’ve changed the subject. Tell me why you wanted to meet with all of us. And why separately? What angle are you playing?” 

“Oh, my god! That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You and Ginny and Charlie have it in your heads that I’m some sort of villain. I’m not playing any angle. I wanted to ask if I could be a part of the family again. I wanted to ask each of you individually for your forgiveness and –”

“Well, you are doing a _stand-up_ job of that, Percy.”

Percy huffed. “ _Look_ –”

“No, how ‘bout _you_ look.” George leaned into the table. “You know Mum will let you back into the house, back into our lives, back into the family if that’s what you want. So why do this? Why meet with all of us? ‘Cause you _care?_ ” 

“I do care!”

“Care about what?”

“About you. About all of you.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it. But then, I guess you always have.” 

“Look, I didn’t mean to offend you. I didn’t plan on fighting.”

“Yet here we are.” George leaned back in his seat and heavy silence between them. A waiter came by to deliver their food, but neither of them touched their meal for several minutes. 

Finally, George broke the silence. “I know that you really do love us, Percy,” he said.

“I do,” Percy said. 

“I know,” George said. He huffed. “I knew even when you sent Dad that awful letter. And even when you sent your _Christmas sweater_ back.” He seethed. “But I know that somewhere, somehow, in your own Percy way, you love us. But _caring_ is…” he paused. “If you cared, you’d care to know how we all _feel._ ” 

“I do care how you all feel,” Percy said. 

“Do you?” George asked. “Really? Because the way I see it, you’re just showing up in our lives again, out of nowhere, without caring what that does to us.”

“What that _does to you?_ What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Fuckin’ dammit, Percy. It means a lot of things. Starting with, you were with Fred when he died.”

Percy froze. Evidently whatever he had expected George’s answer to be was most definitely not that. “What does that have to do with – I don’t –” 

“You were with him. You saw him at the end.”

“I don’t want to talk about any of _that._ ”

George stared at him for a while. “Fine,” he said, “whatever.” 

They were quiet for a while again. George picked at his sandwich. 

“Why would _you_ want to talk about it?” Percy said eventually. 

George’s hands trembled in his lap. “‘Cause you were with him,” he said softly. “And I wasn’t. You… never mind.” 

Percy frowned. “No, go on.” 

George looked up at Percy. He hesitated. “You… you know what Fred’s last words are, don’t you?” he asked at last, and to his surprise, Percy closed his eyes. “P-Percy?”

“Yes,” Percy said very softly. “Yes, I do know… _that._ ” 

George nodded. “I don’t.”

Percy hummed. “Like I already said. I won’t talk about any of that.”

George huffed. “You asked _me_ –”   
“I just want to know _why_ you’d ever want to have such an awful conversation,” Percy said. A heavy silence hung between them for a few long moments.

“Y’know he was always talking,” George said. “ _We_ were always talking. Together. Finishing each other’s sentences. But I don’t know what the last thing he ever said was.” 

Percy took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “Do you… do you want me to tell you?” He struggled to get the words out. 

“You clearly don’t want to.”

“I don’t,” Percy answered quickly. “But I can. I will if that’s… if you…”

“No.” George sighed. “It wouldn’t make a difference anyway.” He stood. “I’m just gonna go home, I think.” 

Percy frowned. “Wh-what? But we’ve barely –” 

“Look, Percy, I really believe you’ve come a long way,” George cut him off. “Or whatever. But our relationship clearly has not changed. We cannot hold a conversation for more than ten minutes without arguing and I just can’t handle that right now. I’m… I wish you every happiness, but I have to go home now.” He turned away from the table before he could see Percy’s reaction, and he hurried from the restaurant. 

George Apparated back home from a secluded alleyway behind the restaurant where no Muggles would be able to see him. He went in through the side door and bolted through the kitchen, past Charlie, and up the stairs. 

“George, is that you? How was lunch?” Molly cried as she burst into the kitchen from the den, and George ducked out of sight just in time. In fact, for a few seconds, he was sure she’d seen him. He sat with his back against the wall, waiting for her to call him down. “Charlie, is George home?”

“I dunno,” Charlie said. “I just came in,” he added. 

George smiled. _Thanks, Charlie,_ he thought, then crept carefully up to the landing and into his bedroom. He got to his feet and closed the door. Turned around and –

“What the hell are you doing?” Fred raised one eyebrow. He leaned against the windowsill. 

George sighed. He placed his hands on his hips, fixed his gaze on the ground, and thought for some time about what he was going to say. He finally settled on, “Where the hell have you been?”

“What?” Fred said. “Oh, I flew around a while. Then I sat on the roof a while. At, like, three in the morning I went and laid down on the sofa.” 

“I didn’t know where you might’ve gone to.”

“Never came looking for me, did you?” 

“Wasn’t sure there was any point to it. I didn’t know if you were ever coming back.”

Fred frowned. “Shove off. I’ll always come back.”

“Yeah?” George frowned, too. 

“‘Course.” 

George sighed. He flopped down on his bed. 

“Am I forgiven?” 

“Yes,” George said into his pillow. He turned his head to look at Fred. “We need to talk through some things, but… yes, of course, you are. Am I?”

“ _No,_ ” Fred said, then winked. “Okay, I’ll bite. How was lunch with dear older brother Percy?”

George hid his face in his pillow again and groaned. “ _Awful._ ”

Fred grinned. “ _Really?_ ” 

“Oh, you don’t have to sound _so_ happy about it,” George huffed. 

“What happened?” Fred came over and sat on George’s bed. 

“Percy was just…”

“Being Percy?” 

George smiled warmly. “Yeah,” he said. 

“Why’re you smiling about that? Sounds awful.”

“No, I wasn’t smiling about that.”

“What were you smiling about then?”

George rolled onto his side. “You.” 

“ _Me?_ ” Fred laughed. “What’re you on about now?”

“I miss having you finish my sentences. I miss finishing yours. Honestly, I miss _talking_ to people. Like other people. I just don’t know how to do it now. Alone, I mean. Everything’s different now. Even talking.” 

“Yeah.” Fred sighed. “But… but it’s not like we were _always_ together.”

“We were pretty much always together.” 

“Okay, yeah, but there were _some times_ when we weren’t.”

“I didn’t talk much then, either.” 

“Oh.”

“Like on days you were sick and didn’t go to class?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. I never talked much on those days. Angelina would usually point it out.” 

“Oh.”

“Why? Is that a bad thing?”

“No. Not bad. It’s just… I still did.” 

“Did what?”

“Talk. When you weren’t around.”

“Oh. Well, yeah.” 

“A lot.”

“Yeah, Fred. I figured.”

“Probably more than when you were there.”

“ _Really?_ How? I mean, how’d you manage _that?_ I can hardly do it without you there.” 

“I…” Fred paused for a few moments, seemingly lost in thought. “I can just talk I guess. With or without you, and it’s better with you there, but not necessarily easier. I think. I’ve never put much thought into it until right this very moment. I always assumed you did the same.”

“The same?”  
“I filled the space. If you weren’t there, I filled the space.” 

George rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He was thinking hard. “Everyone always said it was easier to –”

“ – tell us apart when we were alone,” Fred said. 

“‘Cause we’re different –”

“ – _different fucking people!_ ”

“Yeah.”

“Well, _we_ knew that –”

“ – even if _they_ never acted like it.” 

“So…” Fred flopped down on his back beside George. They hardly fit, but they didn't really care. “No one could ever tell us apart –”

“– not even our own parents –”

“– so we attached ourselves and we became like –”

“– _one person,_ ‘cause everyone always told us we were like –

“– _one person._ We heard it again and again and again until –”

“– we started to believe it ourselves.”

“We were attached at the hip, we did everything –”

“– _seriously everything_ –”

“– _together._ So when we were apart –”

“ – _we were a half without a whole!”_

“And we had to do something about it.”

“We had to _cope_ somehow.”

“I tried to be the half that was missing –” 

“– and I couldn’t be either half without the whole.” 

“Easier to tell us apart –”

“– when we’re alone.”

“ _Fuck!_ ” 

“We were always fucked ‘cause –”

“– we were gonna have to stop living together _some_ time.” 

George sat up and looked down at Fred. “Were we?” 

“ _Eventually._ I mean, once we were both married.” 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get married.” 

Fred hummed. He looked like he wanted to say something but eventually decided to keep it to himself. “Doesn’t make a difference anymore. Does it. We _really_ can’t live together forever now.” 

“Right.” 

“Because –”

“– you’re dead, I know.” 

“I was gonna say ‘cause we don’t seem to get along anymore, but yeah, that puts a damper on things, too.” 

George laughed, then frowned. “ _Why_ have we been fighting so much, Fred? We hardly ever did when you…” he trailed off. 

“I wouldn’t say _hardly_.” Fred sighed. “I don’t know. I’d say we’re under a lot of stress right now, we’re both on edge. Nothing more than that.”

“Yeah?” George said in a small voice. 

Fred smiled reassuringly. “Yeah.” He sat up. “I think that’s why I hid up on the roof for a while – and I’m sorry I disappeared. I think it was for the best, though.” 

“I know,” George sighed. “You’re right. We both needed some space.” 

“Yeah.”

“Some time to think.” 

“Oh?” Fred looked at George. “I was just sort of fuming for the last day.” 

George laughed. “Of course you were.”

Fred laughed, too. “All right, so what have _you_ been thinking about?”

George sighed. “That I can’t live like this forever. I have to do something. Put myself back together. And it’s gonna take time… but I need to do it. I need to face it.” 

“Yeah?” Fred said. “I wasn’t gone _that_ long.” 

George rolled his eyes. “I can’t keep having these nightmares.” 

Fred frowned. “Yeah.”

“So here’s the plan,” George said.

“Oh, there’s a plan now?” Fred smirked. 

“There is.” George grinned, though his smile quickly fell away as quickly as it had appeared. “The _plan…_ ” he began slowly, “is to… well…” he coughed. “We’re going to _talk_ about it.”

“Talk about – ?”

George coughed again. “How you died.”

“ _Oh._ ” 

“You don’t remember it, right?” 

“Right.”

“And you… you _want_ to talk about it, do you?” 

Fred frowned but nodded. “I can’t stay here in limbo forever. Half-feeling, half- _living._ ” 

“Yeah.”

“And…”

“And?”

“Well, it’s quite a lot like the issue you’re having with it, really.” Fred shifted uneasily, ”I don’t remember dying, and I’m here and walking and talking with you, so… so I don’t _feel dead._ ” 

George looked at him. “Oh… Oh, I never thought of that.” They were both quiet for some time. “I’m sorry,” George said eventually. 

“It’s okay,” Fred laughed. “It’s not like I’ve been the picture of compassion and understanding.”

George laughed, too. “Just… can you just give me one more night? We can talk about it all in the morning. The nightmares, the Battle… and you dying.”

“How’re we gonna do this?” Fred asked. “I mean, the problem here is that I don’t remember dying and you didn’t see it happen. How exactly do we help one another out here?”

“Well… maybe if I tell you what I know about it you’ll… I don’t know… start remembering?”

“Mm. Maybe.” Fred didn’t sound all too convinced. “What’re we doing in the meantime?”

George shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno,” he said, looking around the room. Then, he smiled. “Wanna go for a fly, Freddie?”

Fred grinned at his twin brother. “I’d like nothing better.” 

“We’ll have to sneak past Mum.”

“What’d you do now?”

“I avoided her.”

“Why?” 

“She wanted to hear about lunch with Percy.”

“Ah. Easy fix.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. I’ll just go down there first and scope out the route.”

George grinned. “Oh, _brilliant._ ” 

“Be right back,” Fred said. He jumped up and hurried from the room. He returned a few minutes later. “All clear. It’s only Charlie in the kitchen.”

They headed down. George was confident that Charlie would cover for him again if needed. “I’m going for a fly,” he told Charlie softly when he and Fred reached the kitchen. 

Charlie perked up at that. “Can I come with?”

“Uh,” George said, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Fred nodding. “Yeah, of course.” 

“Let’s _go,_ ” Charlie said. 

Ginny poked her head in from the den. “Did I hear someone say they’re going for a _fly?_ ”

“We are,” George said. 

“Do you want to come as well?” Charlie asked. 

“Yes, please,” Ginny said brightly. 

Fred rolled his eyes. “Just invite the whole family!” he said, but he laughed. “It’s just like old times.” 

“Sure thing,” George said. “But let’s get going. Mum wants me to talk about _Percy._ ” 

“I, on the other hand, forbid any such thing,” Ginny said as she bolted for the door. “C’mon, then!” She ran out across the yard toward the shed. 

George and Charlie strolled across the yard side by side, with Fred trailing them. In a low voice, Charlie told George, “I’m more than willing to hear about lunch with Percy some other time. If it’s something you really want to talk about.” 

“Thanks, Charlie.” 

George, Ginny, and Charlie collected their broomsticks from the shed and kicked off into the air. Fred floated alongside George. They all chased each other in circles for a long time; eventually, Charlie pulled out a Quaffle for them to toss around, back and forth between one another.

For the first time in a few days, Fred and George spent more than an hour thinking about something other than death and nightmares and loss. The twins spent a whole afternoon with their brother and sister, even if they couldn’t see Fred, and they didn’t spare a thought for grief or tragedy or evil lookalikes. 

When the sun was nearing the horizon, Arthur came out into the yard and called out, “Dinner’s ready! Time for dinner!” 

They put their brooms back in the shed. Ginny caught George’s eye. “This ought to be interesting.” 

“Super interesting,” Fred laughed.

George hummed. 

“It’s fine,” Charlie said, clapping George on the back. “Everything’s gonna be just fine.” 

“If you say so,” George gritted out, though he didn’t sound convinced at all. He followed Charlie and Ginny back to the house, but he looked more like he was marching to his death rather than to family dinner. 

Ron was already setting the table when they got inside, so the three of them washed their hands quickly and joined him. Molly was setting plates stacked high with food in the center of the table and Arthur was helping her. No one seemed to want to be the first one to speak at this Weasley family dinner, though. 

Finally, they all settled down to eat. George caught Fred seating himself on the counter out of the corner of his eye. They dug into their food and Ron commented quietly that “food’s really good tonight, Mum.”

Instead of thanking Ron for the compliment, Molly said, “George, please tell us all about how your lunch date with Percy went.” 

“Don’t call it that,” George said, shaking his head. “We’re brothers. It’s creepy.”

Molly huffed. “How was lunch?”

“Delicious,” George lied smoothly. “I had a chicken sandwich. It was a little dry in the middle, but what can you do?”

Charlie couldn’t do anything to suppress his laughter. 

“ _George,_ ” Molly said. “How did your meeting with your brother go?”

George considered giving in and answering, but before he could, Ginny spoke. “Well, I don’t want to hear about _fucking_ Percy,” she said sharply, then shoveled as much roasted potatoes into her mouth as she could. 

“ _Language,_ Ginevra,” Arthur sighed. 

“ _Well,_ ” Molly said sharply. “Feel free to eat in your room, then, because I do.” 

Ginny threw her fork and knife on top of her food and scooped up her plate. She stormed from the room and screamed as loud as she could when she slammed her bedroom door shut. 

“You were saying, George?” she said, beaming at him as if nothing had happened at all. 

“Merlin’s beard,” Fred said from the counter. “You need to move out of this house, George. It’s worse than any nightmares you could possibly be having.” 

George laughed under his breath. 

“What was that, dear?” Molly said. 

“It was…” George said, searching for the right words. “It was certainly interesting.”

“Was it?” Arthur said, smiling. 

“What do you mean ‘interesting’?” Molly said sharply. 

“I just mean it was… it was…” George trailed off. 

“Mum, if he doesn’t wanna talk about it –” Charlie started, but George cut him off.

“We had an argument.” 

“You what?” Molly said. 

“Oh, this ought to be good,” Fred said, grinning. “Did you really?”

“George, what did you _do?_ ” Molly said. 

Ron and Charlie shared a look. 

George set his fork and knife down slowly. “Why do you assume that _I_ was the one who did anything?” The kitchen fell deadly silent. 

“Oh, George, I…” Molly started. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to –”

“Didn’t mean to,” George interrupted softly. 

“What happened?” Arthur asked gently. 

“He insulted Fred.” 

Another hush fell across the room. 

“Did he really, George?” Fred asked. 

“Percy wouldn’t do that,” Molly scoffed. “He didn’t insult him.” 

George nodded. “He did. He said that Fred and I were both difficult people and that we were hard to get along with. So I asked him why he’d want to have lunch with me if I was so awful. And he said, and I quote, ‘it was more so Fred than you’.” 

“He said that to you?” Ron said.

Fred only rolled his eyes and said, “He would.”

“I can’t stand him,” Charlie huffed. “He doesn’t know when to stop.”

“He just said that to your face?” Ron said. 

“Why are we surprised?” Fred said as if his family could hear him weighing in. “This is classic Percy behavior.” 

“Okay, listen,” Arthur said slowly. “Percy has made some mistakes, but –”

“No way you’re gonna try and justify this, Dad,” Charlie said, shaking his head. “No way. C’mon.” 

“He’s still family,” Molly said. 

“I don’t know if I should go to breakfast with him on Wednesday,” Ron groaned. 

“ _Ronald,_ ” Molly almost spat. “On my grandmother’s jewels, you _will_ go have breakfast with your brother on the day you planned with him and you _will_ hear what he has to say to you.” 

Ron frowned. “Wait a second, I can decide whether I wanna see Percy or not. After all he’s put our family through, each of us has got the right to choose. I was more than willing to see him and hear him out, and I didn’t even mind the idea of him visiting and being in our lives again, but now I’m not so sure. Doesn’t sound like he’s really changed.”

“ _Exactly,_ Ron!” Fred cried. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Ronald,” Molly said. “And you, Charlie.” 

“Hey, don’t drag me into this,” Charlie said, shaking his head. “I won’t see him and that’s final.” Molly huffed. “George, I think you just misunderstood what Percy was trying to say. Arthur, tell them, please.” 

“The fact of the matter is Ron’s right,” Arthur said, sitting back in his chair. He crossed his arms at the same time his wife crossed hers. “All of them have the right to decide whether they want to let him back into their individual lives or not.” 

Molly pursed her lips so hard they turned white. “ _H-he_ wouldn’t want this,” she said softly, then got up from the table very suddenly. She started clearing the dishes. Ron and Arthur started eating their food quickly before she could whisk their plates away. 

“Who the fuck does she mean?” Fred said coldly.

“ _Who_ wouldn’t want this?” George said sharply.

“Percy was with _him,_ ” Molly said, her voice shaking, as she dropped dishes into the sink. “At the end.” 

Fred laughed. “Me? Oh, believe me. _I_ want this.”

George’s expression hardened. “ _Fred,_ ” he began, and paused to watch Arthur, Charlie, Ron, and Molly all flinch before he went on, “would’ve hit him in the head by now.” 

Fred laughed again. “Yeah, I would.” 

“Don’t use Fred like a weapon against me if you can’t even say his name,” George said sharply. He slid his chair back and marched out of the kitchen without another word. 

Fred was quick to follow before the kitchen door swung shut behind George. “That was _excellent!_ ” Fred cried after his twin brother when they were bounding up the stairs. 

George glanced back at Fred as a small smile appeared on his lips. “Really?” 

“Absolutely,” Fred said, cracking a grin. He closed their bedroom door behind him. “You hardly ever stand up to Mum. It was always me.” 

George nodded slowly. “Filling the space…”

Fred raised one eyebrow. “Good point. That’s something.”

“Is it?” 

Fred shrugged. “I don’t know. Either way, that was bloody brilliant!” 

George flopped down on his bed. “Fuck this house, man.” 

Fred smiled. “Yeah?” 

George rolled his eyes. “Leave it alone.”

“Fine. Tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” 

***

_Hogwarts was completely, perfectly, empty. George wandered the corridors for what felt like a really long time, searching for any sign of life (or death). He found himself searching in the hopes of finding anyone, even Not Fred, but to no avail. So he continued to walk around the castle, his thoughts wandering as much as he did._

_A solution struck George quite suddenly when his thoughts had wandered all the way over to the first conversation that he and Fred had discussed his nightmares. He told Fred that Not Fred there to make sure he kept looking. If Not Fred was nowhere to be found, he need only stop._

_George walked into a courtyard, as empty and eerily silent as the rest of Hogwarts was. With a confident little smirk painted upon his lips, George took a seat with his legs crossed on the ground in the very middle of the courtyard. And then he waited_ – _anxiously so, but he wouldn’t let his face show it. He was determined._

 _Not Fred appeared after some time, but he wore the very same smirk that George did. “Do you actually think you’ve figured out a great deal about this game we play,_ Georgie? _” He tutted. “You don’t know a damn thing.” He chuckled, and then he left George, alone with his thoughts, unable to wake up and unable to move._

***

As promised, the next morning Fred and George sat down to talk about George’s nightmares and the prospect of Fred’s death first thing after breakfast. 

“Well, where do we start?” Fred asked. 

“Back to this again,” George sighed. 

“Okay. Finish telling me about the nightmares. Are there any other pieces to them?”

“Well… Last night I saw you,” George said. “Which was new.” 

“How do you know it was me and not… er… Not Me?” Fred asked. 

George frowned. “‘Cause, _you_ were dead.”

“Ah. Well, that does sound like me.” Fred nodded. “Did you see me die?”

George shook his head. “Just your body,” he said. He swore the air in the room got colder. 

“George?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Have you…” Fred paused. He frowned. “I know you this isn’t at all what you want to hear, but it sounds like a lot of the problems you’re having with accepting that I’ve died could be solved _seeing_ how I died.”

George frowned back at him. “There’s no way to do that, though.” 

Fred hesitated. “There probably _is_ , though,” he said slowly. “There were… people there, right? I mean, people saw me d–”

“Yeah, _Percy_ and he doesn’t want to talk about –”

“Other people had to have –”

“Yeah. Ron, Hermione, and Harry were there.” George turned away from Fred. He stood at the windowsill with the plant. “They were further away, though. Percy was the one who was right next to you.” He sighed. “I… I suppose I could talk to one of them. Harry or Hermione. I don’t think Ron wants to.” 

“Not what I meant.” 

“What _do_ you mean, then? And if you’ve got some hair-brained idea about _time travel –_ “ 

“Harry must have Dumbledore’s Pensieve. Don’t you think so?” 

George rolled his eyes. “You can’t know that for sure.” 

“Who else would he leave it to but the Golden Boy?” Fred said. “The _Chosen One,_ remember?” 

“What exactly are you suggesting?” 

“Get one of them – Harry or Hermione if you don’t want to ask Ron – to give you the memory. And then ask Harry if you can use the Pensieve. You know he’ll let you.”

George laughed. “How do you even go about asking someone for something like that?”

Fred opened his mouth, then closed his mouth and looked deep in thought for several seconds. “Erm,” he said. “‘ _Hey,_ would you be willing to..’ Um…” 

George crossed his arms and raised his eyes. “Yeah?”

Fred glared at him. “Just say, ‘Could you please give me your memory of… my brother dying?’ Simple.”

“Super simple,” George shot back, then rolled his eyes. “People don’t tend to react very well to questions like that.” 

“They’re not exactly normal people, though, are they?” Fred said. “The three of them.”

“They don’t need to be bothered with all this, though. We can figure this out between the two of us. Anyway, I hardly think it’s worth asking unless I were to ask Percy. Like I said, from what I’ve heard, the other was further down the hallway. They’ve all said they didn’t actually _see it happen,_ they just saw you right before and right after.”

Fred grunted. “Right, the two of us. And just how are we supposed to do that, George? Neither of us knows how I died.”

“We said we’d figure it out together.” 

“We said we’d stop arguing, too, and look at us now.”

“Well, _you’re_ instigating.”

“Am not!” 

“We’ve only started talking about it today. Don’t give up. We can work this out.”

“I have worked it out.”

“You’ve given up.” 

“This is the answer.”

“Well, I won’t ask them. Not any of them.” 

“You have to.”

“I don’t. I won’t.”

“It’s the only way.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know it, and I think you do, too.”

“You ask them, then.”

“ _George._ ”

“I won’t.”

“You need to see –”

“No, I don’t!” George was on his feet and he didn’t remember standing up. He couldn’t remember _why_ he had stood up. He was trembling, arms locked at his sides, trying to decide whether he should run away or stay fixed in place. “I don’t want to see it, and you said I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to. You _promised._ ”

“I did promise,” Fred sighed. 

“You promised.”

Fred got to his feet. “I’m sorry George.” 

“And I don’t want to.”

“I know.” 

“Haven’t I been through enough?” 

“You have.” 

George sniffled. “So don’t make me do this.” 

“I won’t.” 

“Please, don’t –”

Fred reached out and took hold of George by the shoulders. “I won’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“I’m sorry,” George said, moving to sit on the edge of his bed.

“What’re you sorry for now?” 

“I can’t do it.” George shook his head. “I can’t see it. And I’m sorry, ‘cause I wish that I could. For you. For me. So I can move on and you can move on, but…” He shook his head again. “I can’t.” 

“I know, George. I’m sorry.” 

George frowned. “What’re _you_ sorry for now?” 

“Asking you to see it.” 

George frowned even deeper. “I…” he started very softly. “I just can’t do it. If I could, then I would, but I –”

“Can’t,” Fred said. “And I shouldn’t have asked you to. ‘Cause if our roles were switched –” he paused and matched George’s frown. “– I couldn’t do it, either.” 

George nodded. “Thank you for understanding.” 

“Took me long enough.” 

“Yeah, it did.” 

“Okay, George, we get it.” 

George grinned. “Let’s go for a fly.” 

“Another one?” 

“Yeah. Yesterday was fun but I was looking forward to going with you, just the two of us.” 

“Yeah, all right.” 

“Plus, we need a break.” 

“So bad.” 

They went to the shed together to collect George’s broom, careful to avoid any other Weasleys on the way there. As soon as they took off, they sailed out above the expanse of woods that the Burrow faced on one side. Then, with a quick glance that could mean a thousand words to the two of them, they set off. 

Once they had a sense of how fast Fred could really fly – he seemed to have no trouble keeping up with George’s _Cleansweep_ even when it was flying at top-speeds – they raced away from the Burrow, far beyond where Molly would allow them to go out to when they were kids; far beyond where they could travel to during the War. 

From above, they spotted a small body of water. They didn’t know which of them started to descend toward the ground first because it felt simultaneous like they had made the decision together without speaking about it out loud. (The evening after Fred and George had played in 

their first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, Percy had rambled on for twenty minutes about flight patterns in various species of birds, ultimately comparing the way that the twins flew together to a murmuration.)

They landed at the lakeside, abandoning George’s broom in the grass. They hurried to pull off their shoes and socks and then stepped into the water. 

Breathing heavily, Fred plunged himself further into the lake, clothes and all. 

“What’re you doing?!” George cried after him.

“I’m swimming!” was Fred’s answer. 

George laughed then swam after him. 

They wound up floating on their backs in the middle of the lake, squinting up at the blue sky as they drifted past one another ever so often. The water was cool on their backs, and the wind was warm on their faces, and for the first time in a long time, the twins felt like everything was going to be okay. They didn’t know how or when, but it was going to be okay. Somehow.


	6. take my hands (they'll understand)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George reaches a breaking a point. Some of his family members don't take it so well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of nightmares, mentions of blood, mentions of hallucinations, discussion of mental health, discussion of mental hospitals
> 
> This chapter is dialogue heavy. There are quite a few fun action moments sprinkled throughout, but there’s a lot of talking/conversation. Enjoy!

Fred and George talked another couple of days away and, for the most part, the Burrow settled down once again. There had been no more mentions of Percy at mealtimes and the Weasley children strongly suspected that Arthur had had a private conversation with Molly. Overall, the house went back to normal (relatively speaking, of course). George finished sorting through Fred’s things; Ron was too swamped with homework from his Auror training to talk to anyone; Ginny disappeared to Luna’s house for a couple of days whereas Charlie disappeared into his bedroom for a few days; Fred was still dead. 

Early on Tuesday morning, George woke with a start, calling out Fred’s name. 

Fred, who was seated nearby at George’s desk, looked up at his brother. “Yes?”

“N-nothing,” George said. His voice shook. His whole body shook. “Nothing. N-nightmare. Sorry.” He drew his knees up to his chest and pressed his face against his legs. “I’m sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Fred said, trying to hide a frown. “Are you gonna try to go back to sleep?”

“No,” George said quickly. He shook his head. “No. I can’t… I can’t right now.” He lifted his head slowly to look at Fred again. “What’re you up to?”

“Hope you don’t mind, I used some parchment and ink. And your quill. I’m making a list.” 

“List of what?” George yawned.

“Sure you want to hear about it so early in the morning?”

George groaned, but he sat up. “Yeah, go on. Do your worst.” 

“All right. I’ve begun writing a comprehensive list of everything we know about how I died, between the two of us.” 

“By which you mean everything that  _ I  _ know about how you died.” 

“I know that we agreed to split up and that Percy was there when it happened.”

“I told you Percy was there.”

“Yeah, whatever. What else do we know?” 

George sighed, but he went with it. This was what he had agreed to after all: talking about it. So, they made a list. 

_ 1 _ _ We agreed to split up beforehand  _

_ 2 _ _ Percy was next to me _

_ 3 _ _ Ron, Harry, and Hermione were nearby, down the hall a bit _

_ 4 _ _ A wall blew up. I got in its way.  _

“Could you please not say it like that?” George huffed.

Fred shrugged. “I can’t help how witty and hilarious I am.”

_ 5 _ _ Augustus Rookwood caused the explosion that hit the wall _

_ 6 _ _ We don’t know how long my body laid there  _

“I thought it was a list of things we do know,” George said. “That’s something we don’t know.” He paused and frowned and  _ huffed.  _ “And could you please not say your… y-your bod…” 

Fred rolled his eyes. “Well, I’ve already written it in ink. What else is there?”

_ 7 _ _ Percy carried my corpse into the Great Hall _

“Not better!” George cried. 

“Well, what do you want from me?” Fred said. “What else?” he asked, but George was out of things to tell him.

“There’s not much more to it, I s’pose,” George sighed. “One second you were there, and the next you weren’t. Simple as that.” 

***

On Wednesday morning, almost everyone was coming down for breakfast. Ginny was just getting home after two nights spent at Luna’s and she bolted to sit between George and Arthur so that Molly couldn’t reach her. Only Ron and Charlie were missing from the table, but no one commented on it.

Breakfast was quiet, if not peaceful. It was a tense silence, but George was grateful not to have to make the effort to speak or come up with things to say. 

Ron came down the stairs, stole a piece of bacon off of George’s plate, and through a full mouth, he said, “Hey, Ginny, nice of you to join the family again.” 

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Fuck off, Ron.”

“ _ Language,  _ Ginevra,” Molly snapped. 

Ginny rolled her eyes again. 

“Right,” Ron said, stepping into his sneakers at the door. “Well, I’ll see you all later, yeah? Bye.” And then disappeared out the door. 

“I’m full,” George said, pushing his chair away from the table and leaving the room swiftly, hurrying up to his bedroom. 

“What’s wrong?” Fred said, following closely behind him. 

“Nothing,” George said. “Just thinking about Percy.”

Fred frowned. “Why?” he asked, but then he remembered. “Right. Ron’s having breakfast with him today.” 

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to go back to sleep?”

George frowned. “Kind of.” 

“That’s all right,” Fred said. “I’ll go for a fly.” 

George smiled. “Tell me all about it when you get back.” 

Fred smiled back. “‘Course.”

So Fred went to the yard and flew around while George went to sleep; all was at peace for a few hours, but twelve o'clock found Fred standing over George and shaking him awake. George, grunting, turned away from him and pressed his face into his pillow. “Five more minutes,” he said. 

“No,” Fred said, and shoved him even harder. “Mum’s gonna come to get you in a minute if you don’t go down for lunch. Ron just got back.” 

George, suddenly wide awake, sat up. “Any word on what happened with him and Percy?”

“So far, he won’t say a word.” 

“Not a good sign.”

“Depends on how you look at it. I think it’s an excellent sign.”

“Well, of course,  _ you  _ do.”

“And you?”

“I’ve already told you. I just want to forget about Percy.” 

Downstairs, the Weasleys gathered for lunch. Ginny was setting the table and Molly was setting down plates of food. Charlie emerged into the kitchen not too long after George and Fred did; having been holed up in his room for over a day, he needed food. Ron sat quietly at the table and avoided looking at anyone. 

Finally, everyone had their plates made and they were all settled into place at the table. George tried to catch Fred’s eye to make a face about the eggplant, but Fred’s eyes were glued on Ron, his leg bouncing on the kitchen counter impatiently. 

“So,” Molly said when she was finished salting her food. “You stayed quite a long time at Percy’s, Ron.”

Ron sighed. “Yeah.”

“Percy told me he was going to bring his new boyfriend along to breakfast,” Molly said. “Did he?”

Fred and George exchanged a quick glance that said what they couldn’t say out loud and then George shared the same look with Ginny and Charlie as they all wondered the same thing in silence: “Percy has a boyfriend?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Ron said, nodding. “Yeah, he did.” But he didn’t seem to have any more to say on the matter. 

Molly smiled impatiently. “And…?”

“And, what?”

“Is he nice?” 

“Oh, um, yeah. Um, it’s Oliver Wood, so…”

George choked on his food while Ginny (and Fred) burst out laughing. 

“ _ Oliver  _ is dating  _ Percy? _ ” Charlie said. 

“And what’s so surprising about that?” Molly said sharply, one hand stuck on her hip. “They were in the same house, in the same year.”

“Yeah, but Wood’s cool,” George said.

“Well,” Fred said. “Cool- _ ish. _ ”

Molly rolled her eyes. “Anyway,  _ Ron, _ ” she said, steering the conversation back on course. “How was it? How did you and Percy get on? What did you talk about?” 

Ron paused with a spoonful of mashed potatoes halfway to his mouth. He fixed his eyes on his plate while everyone else at the table (and Fred) fixed their eyes on him. Ron blinked, then sighed, then calmly responded, “I punched him in the mouth.” Without any further explanation, he ate his potatoes. 

The Weasley kids were stunned into silence, even Fred, while Molly was trying to find the right words to say but couldn’t seem to manage it. She opened her mouth, then closed it, then did it again. 

Finally, in a quiet and dangerous tone, she said, “Ronald,  _ tell  _ me that you are not serious.” 

Ron looked up from his plate to meet his mother’s gaze. “He called Dad a fool.” 

“He  _ what?! _ ” Charlie said. “Why’d he –”

“We were arguing,” Ron cut him off. “We were talking about when we were still at Hogwarts and then we were  _ arguing  _ about when were at Hogwarts, and then about the summer we went to the World Cup, and then he brought up the War and he said Dad was a fool ‘cause –” 

“Your father is a grown adult and he does not need you to go around  _ punching  _ people in his honor – least of all your  _ brother! _ ” Molly snapped. 

“I’m glad he did it,” Ginny chimed in. 

“Me fucking too,” Fred laughed. 

“Enough, Ginny,” Molly said. 

“Well, I am,” Ginny said. 

“He had it coming,” Charlie said. 

“Yeah, he did!” Fred said.

“He’s  _ had it  _ coming for years,” Ginny said. 

“He is your brother,” Molly said.

“That’s not enough sometimes,” Ginny said. 

“He’s  _ trying, _ ” Molly said. 

“Not trying very hard,” George grumbled. 

“ _ George, _ ” Molly said. 

“What?” George said. 

Molly frowned. “Not you, too.” 

“He’s lucky I didn’t hit him on Sunday,” George said. “I  _ should’ve  _ done it.”

“I can’t believe this,” Molly said, slamming her hands down on the table. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this!” She pushed her chair back and stormed over to the sink. 

“Can’t you?” Ginny said, getting to her feet, too, but Molly wouldn’t face her, electing to stare into the sink and shake her head instead. So Ginny went on, “You’ve been pushing and pushing and  _ pushing  _ but we keep telling you! We don’t want him to come back in our lives!”

“I  _ tried  _ with him, Mum,” Ron said. “I really did!”

“Hitting him isn’t trying!” Molly cried. 

“I didn’t walk in and sock him!” Ron said. “I was there for  _ three hours! _ ” 

“And I tried,” George said. “But it was a disaster, and I don’t have it in me to keep trying. Not after everything. I just can’t see him anymore. I don’t even want to  _ think  _ about him anymore.”

“Ron and George both tried and you wanna know what it’s not working?” Ginny said. “‘Cause Percy’s just a fucking  _ wanker! _ ” 

“Enough!” Molly cried. “Enough. I won’t hear any more of this. Percy is your brother, and he  _ is  _ trying to make up for what’s happened in the past, and you will all be here when he joins us for dinner tomorrow evening.”

“What?!”

“After what he said –” 

“But, Mum!” 

“How could you!”

“That’s bullshit!”

Then –  _ CRACK! _ – everyone’s heads turned toward the door which had just ripped itself off of its hinges. They got a glimpse of it twirling through the air before it crashed to the ground and split into two pieces. 

George looked to Fred, who looked like he wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear even though he was already invisible to most, but Charlie turned to George.  _ Right, _ George thought.  _ He thinks it’s ‘cause of me. They think it’s ‘cause of me. _

“Hey, c’mon,” Charlie said softly. “It’s okay. C’mon.”

George realized that Charlie was tugging him toward the hallway, trying to lead him away from the kitchen, and he just let it happen. He didn’t bother looking back, trusting that Fred would follow. He didn’t look back until they were in his bedroom, and only then did he realize that Fred wasn’t there. 

“Hey,” Charlie said softly, pulling George’s attention toward him. “Listen to me, yeah? You do not have to see Percy if you don’t want to. I’ll handle Mum if it needs to be done.” 

“Don’t worry about that,” Ginny said as she waltzed into the room, Ron trailing behind her and closing the door behind both of them. “Ron and I just told her off.”

“Said we wouldn’t see him,” Ron added.

“What did she say?” George asked. 

“Not much,” Ginny said. 

Ron rolled his eyes. “What Ginny means is we ran out of there before she  _ could  _ say anything.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I don’t care what she’s got to say,” Ginny said. 

“More like ‘cause we’re afraid of her,” Ron said. 

Ginny frowned. “That, too.”

They laughed together, collapsing onto George’s bed. 

“ _ Love  _ what you’ve done with the place,” Ginny said, and Ron and Charlie both fell deadly silent. “What? It’s nice is all,” she said, but she sounded self-conscious about it that time. She narrowly avoided George, who reached to hug her, as she jumped back onto her feet. “Whoa, is this plant seriously still alive?”

“Yeah,” George sighed, sorely disappointed. He had been so sure for a short moment that someone was finally going to talk about Fred. But of course not.

“How?” Ginny said. 

Of course, they weren’t going to talk about Fred. 

“Mine is still alive,” Charlie said. 

“Yeah, well, that makes sense,” Ginny said. “You take care of dragons. I’m sure you can take care of a purple plant.”

They were  _ erasing  _ him. Not just his parents, but the whole lot of them. All of this hit George like a wave all at once and he didn’t know how to recover. 

“The dragons?” Charlie said. “They’re a walk in the park. This purple-bloody-fucking-whatever? I hate it. I  _ wish  _ it would die.” 

George wondered how he could have been so stupid as to waste even a moment hoping that they might talk about Fred. If his siblings had it their way, none of them would ever mention Fred again. 

“So why not just let it die?” Ron said. “I haven’t thought about mine since I set it on fire.”

“Seriously,” Ginny said. “Throw it out.” 

The room fell eerily quiet for a long time. And then George said, “I like it too much.” Then he added in a gritty, bitter tone, “It’s very dead-brother chic, don’t you think?” And then he laughed. None of them could bear to look at him, but he kept on laughing as if he didn’t notice. He laughed and laughed and laughed. 

“I don’t get it,” Ginny said. “Just get rid of it. Neville will never know.”

“Who cares if he does?” Ron said.

“Ron, would you be nice?” Ginny huffed. 

The door opened and Molly stepped into the room. “Oh, good. Um, I wanted to talk to you about – George, darling, what’s the matter?” 

Charlie, Ginny, and Ron, who had been staring pointedly at the windowsill, turned quickly to find George in tears. Charlie was the first to realize that the three of them had gotten it all wrong; George had not  _ laughed  _ after he had joked about the plant. He pulled George into a tight hug, saying, “I’m so sorry, George.” He wasn’t entirely sure what he was sorry for. Neither was George. 

Ron backed away from the bed and stood by the window with Ginny. 

“What is it, George?” Charlie whispered. 

George wrenched himself out of Charlie’s grasp and backed away to the other side of the bed. “Fred’s dead,” he said and then sobbed. He swore the room froze – or, at least, that everyone in it had. Everyone except for him. Something inside him snapped and it hurt like hell; he realized then that it had always hurt, only he hadn’t been paying attention. “Fred is  _ dead  _ and none of you will even say his  _ name. _ ” 

Ginny looked away again, unable to look at him any longer, but Charlie couldn’t take his eyes off of George. Molly sucked in a sharp breath, while Ron started swiping tears away right away. 

“N-now, listen,” Molly said. “Just because you don’t want to talk about Percy –” 

“ _ Shut up,  _ Mum,” Ginny said, now looking angrily at her mother instead of staring blankly at her socks. 

“What did you just say to me?” Molly gasped. 

“Mum, just… just give us a second,” Charlie said. “Give George a second to –”

“No,  _ please! _ ” George cried, tone drowned in sarcasm. “Go on about perfect Prefect Percy. I’m just  _ dying _ to hear more about him.” 

“George, stop,” Charlie said softly. 

“Why?” George said. “Why should I? I’m just making jokes. That’s what I’m supposed to do, aren’t I? It’s what I’d be doing if Fred were here – joking – so I should just do that. Pretend like things are normal – like nothing’s changed at all. Like all of you want.” 

“That’s not what we want –” Ron cut in. 

“We’re all processing at our own pace,” Molly said stiffly.

“George, please,” Charlie said. He reached for him again but George pulled away from him.

The room fell quiet again. Too quiet. George wanted to scream but he started biting his fingernails instead. He was starting to wish that Fred would come back. 

“We…” Molly started. “Anyone can talk about anything they want to when they are ready to. However, the fact of the present is that Percy will be here for dinner with us tomorrow night at five. Bill is coming, as well.” 

“‘Course he is,” Charlie said in a fake-cheery tone. “‘Cause  _ someone’s  _ got to be on Percy’s side with you, haven't they?” 

“There are no sides, Charlie,” Molly snapped. “We are a family.”

“I agree with you there, Mum,” Ginny said sharply. “ _ We  _ are all a family in this room. But Percy’s not a part of it. He cut himself out.” 

“And now he’s back,” Molly said. “It’s as simple as that, Ginny. He’s coming to dinner. And you all need to be there. He has something very important to ask all of you. You all need to hear him out – seriously this time and  _ without hitting him. _ ” 

“C’mon, Mum, it’s one or the other,” Charlie said. “Listen to him talk or don’t hit him. You can’t have both.” 

Molly huffed but didn’t engage. “That’s all I have to say,” she said. “Goodnight,” she added, then turned to go. 

“That’s it?” George said. “You’re going to  _ brush me off? _ Just like that?”

Molly turned back to look at him, frowning. “George, I didn’t –” 

“ _ Why won’t you talk about him? _ ” George said. “That is all I’m asking. Why won’t you even say his name? Do you know I haven’t heard one of you say his name since he died. Not even once.” 

“ _ George, _ ” Charlie said. “Come on. That’s not fair.” 

“It’s not  _ fair? _ ” George said. “How’s it not fair?” Something clicked into place quite suddenly. “How can I get over it if every time I talk about it you change the subject? How can I talk through it if none of you will talk about him? The only person who’s talked about Fred since he died, other than me, is  _ Percy  _ and…” 

_ And Fred.  _

Everyone looked between one another awkwardly, except for Charlie who was staring at his hands. Finally, Ginny spoke up. “We’ve talked about him,” she said. 

“Talked about  _ who _ ?” George said, just to be mean. A few more tears escaped. He swiped them away quickly. “ _ Say  _ it.”

“Fred,” Ron said, loud and clear. 

George widened his eyes. “Ten points to Ronnie!” he said. “Go on, then. Remind me of all these times you’ve been talking about Fred since he died because I just can't seem to recall.” 

Ron stared at the floor, and Ginny stared miserably back at George. After what felt like an age to each of them, Ginny was the one brave enough to finally speak up and tell George, “I suppose none of us have talked about him very much while you were around.” 

George’s blood ran cold. “Hold on a moment,” he said. “Let me see if I’m understanding this correctly.” He hoped he had it all wrong. “You’ve been talking about Fred this whole time, just not with me?” He  _ prayed  _ that it wasn’t true. Because if it was, then it was worse than he had thought. If it was true, that meant that... “You’ve excluded me from the conversation about my dead twin.”

“It’s hard, Georgie,” Molly said softly. 

“Don’t call me that,” George snapped. He turned his head. “Charlie?’

Charlie was the only one brave enough to meet his gaze. “I – I’m so sorry, George.” 

George leaped onto his feet and backed himself against the wall. “I can’t believe this,” he hissed. 

“We didn’t want to upset you,” Ron said. 

“I can’t fucking believe this.” George shook his head. “Do you have any idea the shit I’ve been going through? Do you have any clue –”

“I tried to help with nightmares, dear,” Molly said, her voice shaking. 

George barked out a laugh. “Nightmares. That’s the least of my problems. Clearly, I can’t trust anyone in this family.” 

“We were just trying to protect you,” Charlie said softly. 

“Were you?” George said. “Or were you protecting yourselves? You think I don’t notice when you can’t look at me because you’re especially sad about Fred that day. You think I don’t notice when I come around a corner and you think I’m Fred for a second.” He looked at Molly. “You think I don’t notice when you hug me twice as long as everyone else.” 

Arthur poked his head into the room. “Hey,” he said brightly. “How’s it going in here?” 

George looked around at his family and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or scream. “You… you let me suffer all on my own and I let you, for the most part, because I thought you couldn’t bear to talk about him.” He had never felt more betrayed than he did at that moment, nor had he ever felt more alone. “But all this time, you just couldn’t stand to talk about Fred with  _ me.  _ Because it’s hard. That what you said, isn’t it, Mother? It’s hard. Because I  _ look like him, _ ” 

None of them dared to speak, so George went on. “Fuck you. Fuck every single one of you. I can’t believe everything I kept to myself just because I thought – to  _ protect  _ all of you from –  _ Merlin,  _ fuck you.” 

“George, l-let’s take a walk,” Charlie said, getting to his feet. He held out a hand to George but George scoffed at him in response and spat another “ _ fuck you _ ” at Charlie for good measure. 

“Why don’t we all take a break?” Arthur said. “I think that all of us need to calm down a little bit.”

“No,” George said sharply. “I think you’ve all had a very nice break. Seems you’ve had a comfortable couple of months, but welcome to my world.” 

“George, you’re upset,” Arthur said. “I think you should take a walk with Charlie.” 

“I’m not upset,” George said evenly. “I’m fucking pissed.  _ Livid,  _ I am. You lot like to talk about  _ Fred,  _ do you? I’ve got a good one for you. Fred’s haunting me.” 

The room fell silent for a long stretch of time, and then Molly burst into tears and ran from the room. Arthur, on the other hand, drew in a deep breath and asked, “What do you mean by that, George?” 

“I mean that Fred’s been here for the past week and only I can see him,” George said. “And I didn’t tell any of you because as far as I could tell you were all pretending that Fred never existed.” 

“That’s not true,” Ginny said defensively. 

“Okay, everyone get out,” Charlie said. “That means you, too, Ginny. And Ron.”

“ _ Hey  _ –”

“But –” 

“Leave.” 

The two of them shuffled off, mumbling angrily to one another all the way down the hallway. 

George looked back and forth between Charlie and his father. “What now?” he asked. “Are you gonna ship me off to St. Mungo’s?” 

“You’re not going to St. Mungo’s,” Charlie said, sounding panicked. 

Arthur didn’t look so sure. “So you have been…  _ seeing  _ Fred, have you? What does he say to you?”

George opened his mouth to answer, but Charlie beat him to it. 

“Dad, just give us a little bit, okay?” Charlie said. “Just… just go.” 

Arthur still didn’t look so sure, but finally, he nodded. “Okay. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” 

Charlie rounded on George as soon as Arthur had gone. “All right, what exactly are you playing at?” 

“What’re you talking about?” George frowned. “I’m not playing at anything.”

“You’re being serious?” Charlie said. 

George nodded.

“Shit, George, why didn’t you tell me you were seeing things?” Charlie pulled at his hair. 

“I’m not seeing things,” George said. “He’s really here.”

“Is he… is he here right now?” Charlie said. 

George frowned. “No… not right now.” 

“Good. That’s good.” 

“Charlie, I’m not crazy.” 

“I know that.” He didn't sound so sure about it, though.

“He really has been here. He can’t move on. Because I can’t move on.” 

“And what exactly  _ does _ Fred say to you?” 

“You know, sacrificing small animals, killing our parents while they sleep, burning the house down,” George quipped. “What do you fucking think? It’s Fred. We've been making fun of all of you and trying to figure out how we can, like, set his soul free or whatever.” 

Fred groaned. "Don't phrase it like that." 

Charlie didn’t answer. He stared at George for a long time, and George stared back, unwavering. Neither of them seemed to have anything else to say, and neither of them seemed willing to be the first to look away. 

Eventually, the bedroom door opened and they both looked to see who was there. George grinned, while Charlie frowned deeply. 

“Hi, Fred,” George said. 

Fred frowned. “Hi… What’s going on?” 

“How’d the door…” Charlie mumbled. 

“Fred opened it,” George said shortly. 

“Oh, shit,” Fred huffed. “Did Charlie figure it out?”

“No,” George said. 

“‘No’, what?” Charlie said. 

“Wasn’t talking to you,” George said, then turned his attention to Fred. “I told them. All of them.”

Fred raised his eyebrows. “Told them…?” 

“That you’re here,” George said. 

Fred gaped at him. “W-what? Why?” 

“Because,” George said. “Fuck them.” He turned back to Charlie, who also gaped at him. “Fuck you. I should’ve seen this coming from Mum or Ron, but I can hardly believe that you would do this to me, Charlie.” 

“What did they do?” Fred cried. 

“I’ll tell you in a bit,” George said. 

“Tell me what?” Charlie said. 

“Talking to Fred again,” George said. 

“Oh, we could have a lot of fun with this,” Fred said, grinning. 

“And we absolutely should,” George said. 

“Okay,” Charlie huffed. “Can I trust you to stay here while I go talk our parents out of sending you to a ward?” 

“Yeah,” George said. 

Charlie looked at him, unsure. “Okay. I’ll be back, though.” 

George shrugged. “Whatever.” 

“What’s all this about, then?” Fred asked as soon as the door clicked shut behind Charlie, who frowned at George over his shoulder all the way out the door. “I gotta say, I  _ did not  _ see this one coming.” 

George filled Fred in on everything that had been said while he had been elsewhere. After, Fred told George that he needed to blow off some steam after what had happened at lunch, or else he wasn’t sure what his magic would have done. “I’m really sorry for leaving you alone with them, though,” he added.

“It’s fine,” George told him. “I doubt it would have changed much to have you there. They can’t see or hear you. They still... I can’t believe them. I can’t believe…” he shook his head. 

“Well, this is all… quite a lot to process,” Fred said. “What are you going to do now, then?” 

“Oh, I’m not sure,” George said. “Sort of want to go to bed.” 

“It’s one in the afternoon, George,” Fred said. 

“Yeah, I’m kinda tired, though.” George shrugged. 

Fred frowned. “Yeah, fair enough. You’ve had a rough go of things today. You take a nap, then. I’ll just go for a –” 

The bedroom door swung open again. Charlie was back. “Okay,” he said. He was breathing heavily. He closed the door behind himself. “Okay,” he said again. “I’ve convinced Dad to at least hold-off. Mum’s a mess. But Dad just wants me to keep an eye on you for now.” 

George frowned. “I don’t need you to keep an eye on me.” 

Charlie fixed him with a suspicious look. “Right. Is… can you see Fred right now? Y-you said he was back…?” 

George was very careful to keep his eyes fixed on Charlie’s face when he huffed at him in exasperation. “If you must know, he left again,” he lied smoothly because he thought it was his best chance at getting Charlie to leave him alone. “So, no, I can’t see him right this very minute. Am I allowed to take a nap now? It’s been a pretty rough morning.” 

Charlie still looked suspicious, but he nodded. “Yeah, you can have a nap. That’s fine. I’m gonna come and check in on you every once in a while, though, okay?” He nodded again. “Right, get some sleep. I’ll see you later.” And with that, he was gone. 

“This is all so crazy,” Fred whispered. 

George’s face crumpled as he flopped down onto the bed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have… shouldn't have…” He looked down at his hands, wringing them in his lap for a while. “Fred, I’m sorry I told them – I just got so angry and I couldn’t –” 

“Hey, stop that,” Fred said, racing to sit down next to George on the bed. “You haven’t done anything wrong. They’ve all been such  _ dicks.  _ They deserve this. They deserve it all. We’re gonna fuck with them, okay?  _ Okay,  _ George?  _ George? _ ” 

“Okay,” George grumbled. 

“Look at me.”

George did. 

“What you’re going through…” Fred stopped himself. “What you’re  _ being put  _ through… it’s not fair that you should have to deal with it all alone.” 

“But, I’m not alone. I’ve got –”    
“Me, yeah,” Fred cut him off. George couldn’t place his tone. “I just mean… Fuck them, right? You said that yourself. Fuck them. C’mon, say it.” 

“Fred,” George groaned. 

“ _ Fuck them. _ ”

George sighed, but finally, he nodded. “Yeah. Fuck them.”

Fred grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Excellent. So rest up, and then later on we’ll get our revenge.” 

***

George woke up to someone shaking him and his first thought was that he had slept without dreaming of Fred’s death for the first time since the beginning of May. His second was to mumble, “Five more minutes, Fred.” 

“Not quite.” 

George sat up quickly. “Merlin, Bill, what’re you doing here?” 

“What a greeting,” Bill quipped, grinning at George for a few seconds before his expression fell a little. “Been waiting for you to wake up for over an hour,” he told him. “We’re just gonna talk. That’s all. No need to be scared, okay?” 

“If memory serves, the last time you and I had a talk we both ended up with some pretty nasty hangovers. Better not.”

“Yes, well, we’ll be sober this time. And it’s not just you and me, either. We’re talking – all of us – together.” 

“All of who together?” George said. “What time is it?”

“The family,” Bill said. “It’s quarter past four. Charlie told Ron you were napping. Anyway, shall we?”

“No.” George frowned. “I don’t want to see Mum right now.”

“Not Mum. Not Dad, neither. You, me, Charlie, Ginny, and Ron.”

“I don’t want to do that, either.” 

Bill nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. We need to talk.” 

“Shouldn’t you still be at work?” 

“I left early. Family emergency.” 

George just stared back at him for a long while. Finally, he said, “Fine. I’ll come and have a chat with you and the others.”

Bill looked relieved. “Thank you, George.” 

“But Fred’s gonna come as well.” 

Bill froze. 

“Did Mum not tell you I’ve gone crazy?”

“She told me that you had an episode last night,” Bill said. “But I’d rather hear about it from you.”

George sat up. “What?”

Bill smiled sadly at him. “I wanted to tell you… I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you, George.”

George shook his head. “Bill, I didn’t mean  _ you. _ All that stuff wasn’t about – You haven’t been here.” 

“Exactly. I haven’t been here for you. I haven’t been here for any of you.” 

“You don’t live here, though. Everyone else does.” 

“I’ve been avoiding visiting.” Bill looked down but forced himself to look back up. “Mum’s asked me to come over at least twice a week but I…” He shook his head. “I haven’t been able to face it. And I’m sorry. I didn’t think about what you must be going through. How hard it must be. The things that grief can do to you.”

George almost cried. Instead, he quipped, “That’s beautiful, Bill, but Fred’s ghost is really just haunting me. Speaking of which, I’m not sure where he’s gotten to.” 

Bill nodded. “Okay,” he said. Though Bill was clearly trying to hide it, George heard very clearly how anxious his older brother sounded. “Do you want to tell me your side of the story, then?”

George hesitated. “Y-yeah,” he said. “Actually, I’d like to tell you all the whole story.” He was regretting his outburst more and more – everything had been so much easier when Fred’s ghost was a secret. But there was nothing he could do to change the past, and surely it was preferable for his family  _ not  _ to think crazy. (Although, he wasn’t sure whether explaining the whole story would make him sound more or less like he’d fallen off the deep end.) 

Bill nodded again. “Come have a chat with me and the others, and then we can talk about it afterward. Does that sound like a plan?”

George didn’t answer right away. He inhaled sharply and opened his mouth to protest, but Bill beat him to it. “And Fred can come,” Bill said. “If that’s what you want.” 

George nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Thank you.” 

Bill smiled. “Come along, then.” 

George and Bill headed downstairs together. Ginny, Ron, and Charlie were whispering amongst themselves when the two of them entered the living room. Fred was watching from the corner. 

“Ah, you’re awake!” Fred exclaimed. “I haven’t started messing with them yet. I’ve been waiting for you. Have any ideas? I’ve been trying to come up with a game plan but didn’t wanna get ahead of myself without you.”

George grinned. “Good morning to you, too,” he said dryly, joining Fred in the corner of the room. 

Fred rolled his eyes. “Sun’s going down soon, lazybones.” 

George laughed. The others eyed him oddly but he pretended that he didn’t notice. 

“Right,” Bill said. “Are we all here, then?” He looked around at each of them but lingered on George the longest, waiting for a clear nod from him. “Excellent.”

“Outstanding,” Ginny said. “Get this over with.” 

“Thank you for joining me this evening,” Bill said in a voice that was far too formal for a meeting amongst the Weasley children. Bill seemed to realize this because when he spoke again, his tone was a far more casual one. “Our parents wrote to me right after lunch. They asked me to come over as soon as I could and have a talk to the lot of you.” 

Ginny scoffed. Ron mumbled something under his breath that no one could make out. The twins shared a look and rolled their eyes. Charlie, who looked angrier than that lot of them combined, leaned forward in his seat with his elbows resting on his knees and asked, “What’s this all about, Bill? Why’re dancing in Mum’s circus?”

Bill huffed. “Could you at least try to act like an adult?”

“Are you two still quarreling, then?” George said. 

“You two are quarreling?” Ginny gasped.

“ _ Bill  _ and  _ Charlie? _ ” Ron frowned. “But you’ve never disagreed a day in your lives.”

Charlie laughed coldly. “ _ That’s  _ not true.” 

“ _ Anyway, _ ” Bill said sharply. “The reason I’m here is that Percy is coming here for dinner tomorrow night.” 

“The hell he is,” Ginny said,

“He can come to dinner,” Charlie said. “But we won’t be there.”

“Oh, I’ll be there,” Ron said. “I’d love to get another swing at him.” 

“You know, that’s actually not a bad idea,” Ginny said. “On second thought, maybe I  _ would  _ like to have dinner with Percy tomorrow night.” 

“Let’s calm down,” Bill said. “No one is hitting anyone.” 

“Tell them if I got the chance to hit him I’d knock him out,” Fred said laughingly, swinging at the air.

George looked at Fred, then back at the rest of his siblings. “Fred says that he would knock Percy out.” 

The room fell silent. 

“Tough crowd,” Fred said. “Didn’t expect you to do it, actually. I was joking.” 

“Should’ve been clearer on that,” George grumbled at him, earning himself more odd stares from his brothers and sister. 

Eventually, Bill nodded to George, acknowledging that he spoken, then looked elsewhere as if he knew where Fred was – to his credit, he  _ did  _ only end up looking about eight feet to Fred’s right – and said, “Thank you for your contribution… Fred. But like I said, no one’s going to punch Percy.” 

“George says Fred’s been here for a week, right?” Ginny said out of nowhere, and everyone in the room looked to her. 

“Ginny, that’s not what we’re talking about right –”

“ _ Right? _ ” Ginny cut Bill off. She caught George’s eye and held his gaze with her own intense stare. “That’s what you said, isn’t it? So he was here during Harry’s party. He was here to hear about how Percy’d asked to see us all. I mean, I assume he was with you when Percy talked to you. Wasn’t he?” 

George gulped when he met Ginny’s eye. “Yes. He was.” 

“Hold on,” Fred said. “Does Ginny _ believe  _ you all of a sudden?”

“Ginny,” Charlie said. “What are you –”

“Shut it, Charlie,” Ginny said. She got to her feet. “He was here for all of that, wasn’t he?” 

“I said yes,” George said, though he had a feeling Ginny was only repeating herself in order to process it all. “What about it?”

“Well, I’ll bet  _ he’s  _ been anti-Percy from the very beginning,” Ginny said. 

“You know it,” Fred said dryly. 

“ _ Ginny  _ –” Charlie snapped. 

“He has,” George said. “He was upset with me for even entertaining the idea of seeing him again. He was  _ livid  _ when I actually did it.” He found himself spouting more details about the night in question, so desperate not to let Ginny’s trust in what he was telling them slip away. “He was excited when Hermione said that Ron had insulted him, and disappointed when he found out he hadn’t  _ really  _ insulted him.” George didn’t care to see if this had caught Ron’s attention. He didn’t care to see how Bill or Charlie or even Fred reacted. He stepped closer to his sister and went on fiercely, “And he was proud of you, Ginny – really, really proud of you. For what you said to him.”

“I knew it,” Ginny said softly. 

“Since when do you believe me?” George asked Ginny. “I didn’t expect any of you to believe me. Fred and I were just gonna use his ghost powers to mess with you lot until you had no choice but to believe me.” 

“I believed you as soon as you told us,” Ginny told him. “I… I’m sorry I didn’t say anything then or... Charlie kicked us out and I didn’t know what to do, and I needed some time to  _ think _ , but… The door opened by itself the other day. Your bedroom door – I saw it happen – and then the rug in the hallway got all screwed up like someone had tripped over it, and I know I heard something hit the floor but I just couldn’t see anything there. And I know the door, and your plant, and the food. And I know that Mum and Dad, and  _ you two  _ –” She pointed at Charlie and Bill in accusatory fashion. “– think that George is out of control or there’s something wrong with him but –” 

“We don’t think –”

“Now, wait just a minute –” 

“Put a sock in it,” Ginny cut them off. “Either way, if that’s true or not, this wasn’t that. ‘Cause George was asleep on the other side of the wall.” 

Charlie opened his mouth to speak, but George turned to Fred, asking, “When was this?’ 

“I didn’t tell you about that?” Fred said, scratching his head awkwardly. “That was Friday morning. Right after we fought.” 

George looked back at Ginny. “Fred says that was Friday morning.” 

Ginny covered her mouth. “ _ Merlin,  _ he really is here.”

“Hey, you said you believed me!” George said. 

“Yes, well, I had  _ some  _ doubts,” Ginny said. “Little ones. It is a bit.... But that…” She looked at the others. “Come on. How else could he have known?”

Charlie frowned. “No. This isn’t possible.”

George turned to him. “Why won’t you believe me, Charlie?” He was angry. “I swear. I swear on anything.” 

“On my grave!” Fred said.

George snapped his fingers. “On your grave. No, not – I didn’t mean  _ your  _ grave, Charlie. I meant his. Fred’s.”

“George, stop.” Charlie’s voice shook. 

“ _ Charlie, _ ” Ginny stepped in between the two of them. “He’s telling the truth, Charlie.” 

“She said my name,” Fred went on quickly. “Like she was asking me if I was there. And then Mum came up. And – and they hugged.” 

“That’s not –” Charlie shook his head. 

“Okay, let’s just – let’s all just calm down,” Bill said. “George, remember we said we’d talk about this  _ after  _ –” He sighed. “Are you doing okay, Ron?” 

Ron had gone very pale and looked as if he may be sick.

“That’s not how ghosts work,” Charlie said. He was still shaking his head for some reason. 

“Shut up!” George shouted at Bill and Charlie. “Ginny, Fred says that you said his name like you were asking if he was there, and then Mum came upstairs and you two hugged.”

“And cried!” Fred added.

“And cried,” George echoed. 

Ginny sounded breathless, but she managed to say, “Yes.” 

“George, you could have overheard all of that,” Charlie said. 

“I was sleeping!” George said. 

“He was!” Ginny agreed. “I checked! So did Mum!”

“George, if Fred were really here –” Charlie began. 

“He’s right there, Charlie!” George pointed, but Charlie squeezed his eyes shut. 

“I think now’s as good a time as ever to mess with them, yeah?” Fred said. “What d’you think? Should I dump the bowl of apples on Charlie’s head?”

“Can we please settle down?” Bill said. “George, you and I can talk about this shortly, yes? Can we p-please – calm down. We need to talk about dinner tomorrow night.” 

“ _ No, _ ” Ginny said. 

“What she said,” Fred grumbled.

“Yes,” Bill insisted. “We  _ need  _ to talk about Percy.”

“Enough about bloody  _ Percy! _ ” Fred cried and before George could even blink, let alone try and stop him, Fred had lunged forward and punched Bill across the face as hard as he could. Bill was taken aback, which was unsurprising given that he had not been able to see or hear his attacker approaching. In fact, he was so shocked by the attack that he tumbled backward onto the floor, one arm outstretched to break his fall while his free hand flew to protect his already wounded face.

“What the fuck!” Bill cried.

“That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind!” George yelled. 

“Who punched me in the face?!” Bill gasped, still a little disoriented. “What is happening?!” Blood was gushing from his nose and upper lip. Bill’s assailant had clearly gotten a very good punch in. 

Fred turned to look at George with a wide grin plastered across his face. “That was fucking awesome,” he said, and George couldn’t help but laugh. 

“See?!” George cried, still unable to contain his laughter. 

“George, that’s just your magic acting up again,” Charlie sighed. 

“That wasn’t –” Bill spluttered, spitting blood out of his mouth. “Charlie –” He shook his head. “That wasn’t like any magic I’ve ever encountered.” 

“Can I punch him, too?” Fred asked George, pointing at Charlie. “I want to. Can you get him to come over here?” 

“No,” George said. 

Bill and Charlie both looked confused.

“No, what?” Charlie said. 

“Oh, I was telling Fred no,” George said. “‘Cause he wants to punch you in the face as well,” he added to Charlie. 

Charlie’s eyes widened. Ginny laughed at him. 

“Could someone get me a rag?” Bill sighed. “Maybe some ice? Please?” 

Ron, who felt even sicker at the sight of blood, quickly nodded and hurried off to the kitchen. 

“There was never any uncontrollable outbursts of magic because of my grief,” George said to Charlie. “I went along with it when you told me that because I thought it was as good a cover-up as Fred and I were gonna get.”

“That’s not –” Charlie huffed. “I suppose that – that Fred could have thrown the plant, and that it could have been  _ him  _ that tripped in the hall –”

“It was!” Ginny said.

“It was,” Fred agreed.

“It had to have been,” George said. “I was asleep when he tripped in the hall. How could I have had a magical outburst then anyhow?” 

“I’m absolutely sure it can happen while you’re sleeping,” Charlie said. “It’s not uncommon for young children to make things happen when they’re sleeping, especially if they have strong dreams.” He turned to Bill. “If you’d be so kind as to back me up on this,” he said sharply. “When George and Fred were babies they couldn’t have mobiles like the rest of us did because when they were sleeping they would make them spin so fast it would bounce about the room and break things.” 

Bill frowned as he was getting back onto his feet. “I’d forgotten about that,” he said. He looked into George’s face with a look that could only be described as  _ solemn,  _ and George hated it. “But Charlie’s right, George. You two were the only ones in the family who did magic in your sleep. Mum didn’t know how to put up with it. It’s usually hereditary, you know? It doesn’t run on the Prewett side. But Dad did it as a kid. I think Auntie Muriel did, too.” 

“This is ridiculous,” Fred huffed. 

“You have to believe me,” George said, frowning. “Please, Bill,  _ believe  _ me. You’ve got to. You got punched in the face.”

Bill sighed. “Yes, I know,” he said, then looked deep in thought for several moments. At long lost, he said, “George, if there’s any chance that you’re –  _ hallucinating,  _ seeing things –”

“I can’t believe you,” Ginny interrupted. “Our brother is confiding in us, trusting with something that’s obviously really hard, and you don’t  _ believe  _ –” 

“Ginny, this isn’t that simple and you know it,” Charlie cut her off. 

“Where's Ron with the damn ice?” Bill groaned, gently pinching his nose and flinching in pain. “As I was saying, I just think it’s important that we –”

Fred rolled his eyes and stormed out of the room. 

George frowned, confused. “Fred, where are you going?” he asked, interrupting Bill without really meaning to. He sounded a little panicked and only felt worse when Fred ignored him and didn’t come back. George frowned ever deeper, unsure whether he should chase after him or not. 

“Why do you find this so hard to believe?” Ginny asked. “Both of you. Why can’t you accept it, hm?” 

“It is a bit –” Bill started, but cut himself off.

George frowned. “It’s a bit  _ what? _ ” 

“Nothing, nothing,” Bill said. 

George wanted to push the matter but Bill was saved from having to answer a moment later. Fred walked into the room holding a bag of ice and a clean, warm towel. George, who was well aware of what they must be seeing at that moment, looked at Bill’s expression, Charlie’s expression, and Ginny’s expression in turn. 

“W-wow,” Bill said. “That’s – wow.” 

“Well,” Charlie said. “Well, surely – I mean, Bill asked for – your magic could have –” 

Ron trailed in behind Fred, his mouth agape. “Bloody hell.” 

“That’s no outburst, Charlie,” Bill said, shaking his head. He reached out slowly and took the ice and the rag. “Th-thank you, Fred.” 

“Merlin, he really is here,” Ron said, his voice shaking.    
“Is he?” George said drily. “Did  _ none  _ of you believe me? Really? Only Ginny?”   
“I really thought we’d be bringing you to St. Mungo’s by the end of the week,” Charlie admitted. Apparently, even he could not deny Fred’s presence any longer. 

George huffed.  _ “Honestly. _ ”

“Well, it is a very fantastical scenario,” Charlie sighed. 

George laughed humorlessly. “I assure you, it’s been anything but.” 

Charlie got up from his seat and crossed the room to where Bill stood. Wordlessly, he took the rag from Bill’s hands and started cleaning up his older brother’s face. 

“ _ Ow! _ ” Bill hissed. 

“Sorry,” Charlie said. 

“Can you tell Bill I’m sorry I punched him in the face?” Fred sighed. “I think I went a bit too far.” 

“Bill,” George said. “Fred says he’s sorry.” 

Bill looked at George, then around the room as if he was looking for Fred. “That’s okay,” he said slowly. “Can I ask what I did to deserve  _ that?” _

George looked at Fred.

Fred looked at Bill for long while, then he looked back at George. “He won’t stop talking about Percy,” he said. “I’ve heard enough about stupid Percy as it is, but he wouldn’t even stop and listen to what you needed to say first. Percy still came first.” 

George looked back to Bill and relayed this information. The room fell silent again, but it was for much longer than several seconds this time. The heavy silence that threatened to choke them all to death went on and on, minutes creeping by like snails forced to race for a child’s amusement.

Bill broke the silence at last. “Okay, but, you do know that all of this won’t stop Mum from having Percy over for dinner tomorrow night, right?”

The rest of the room exploded in a flurry of sound as all of Bill’s siblings huffed and scoffed and started yelling at him. 

“ _ Still?! _ ” Fred said, and he would be lost among the chatter even if they could hear him. He turned to George. “What’d I just –” 

“ _ I  _ could  _ hit you! _ ” George was shouting at Bill from the mantelpiece. 

“I wouldn’t mind hitting him again,” Fred said. 

“How could you say that?” Ron demanded of him. “How could you possibly say that right now?” 

Apparently, Ginny couldn’t bear to speak to him any longer, electing to just shake her head at him instead. She turned sharply and stomped to the other side of the room. 

Charlie seemed to remember that he was angry at Bill then. He threw the rag at Bill's chest. “You’re exactly like  _ Mum  _ you are,” he scoffed and marched back over to his seat, collapsing into it. “Fred is fucking  _ haunting  _ George and you still wanna talk about  _ Percy! _ ” 

“Haunting is such a nasty word,” Fred said. “I’m just visiting.” 

George opened his mouth to pass Fred’s sentiment along to the group, but Bill spoke before he could start:

“I have a responsibility to all of you as your older brother,” he said. “But Percy is part of that, too. I’m his big brother, too.” 

“Not this again,” Charlie said. 

“No, nothing,” Bill said. “I didn’t say anything.” 

Charlie turned to the rest of his siblings. “This is rich – you’ll  _ love  _ this. Bill says that I’m a bad older brother.” 

“ _ What?! _ ” Fred yelled. 

“How dare you!” George took several steps forward in Bill’s direction, glaring fiercely at him. 

“That’s bullshit,” Ginny said.

“Charlie’s the greatest,” Ron said. 

“Hang on,” Bill said. “Just a second ago Charlie didn’t believe George and you were pissed.”

“ _ You  _ didn’t believe me, either!” George said. “No one did, and  _ no one  _ was there to talk about Fred with me except  _ Fred.  _ At least Charlie was there to keep me company. Everyone else just found their own company and then holed away. I got left alone.” 

“George,” Bill said softly. 

“Charlie’s  _ not  _ a bad older brother!” George yelled. 

“I didn’t even mean it when I said it,” Bill said. “We were arguing and it got a little bit out of control. I said something I didn’t mean in the heat of the moment, but I told you after that I didn’t mean it and that I am  _ sorry,  _ Charlie.”

“No, I think that you did mean it,” Charlie said. “You just never meant to say it out loud. But you’ve thought it all along. At least own up to it, you coward.” 

“I  _ haven’t, _ ” Bill said. “I think you’re a wonderful big brother. I just think that, right now, you aren’t looking at the situation from everyone's perspective.” 

“Oh, I’ve looked at it from everyone’s perspective, all right,” Charlie said. “I’ve thought about it from Ron’s perspective – thought about the fact he called Dad a fool at breakfast with Ron yesterday. And I’ve looked at it all from George’s and I think I got so angry I saw red. Oh, didn’t Mum tell you that Percy talked shit about Fred to George’s face the other day?”

“ _ What? _ ” Bill whirled around to look at George. “No, she didn’t tell me –”

“And think of all that we now know,” Ginny said. “Fred was probably there to hear it all!” 

“He wasn’t,” George said. “But that’s beside the point. He  _ did  _ insult Fred.” 

“W-well, that’s not –” Bill huffed. “Can you just hear me out, at least?” 

“You?” George said. “Sure. But I’m done hearing what Percy has to say.” 

“I, for one, don’t even wanna hear what  _ you  _ have to say,” Charlie said. 

Bill glared at Charlie. “Mum asked me to talk to you about all of this,” he told them. “As I’m sure you can all guess. She told me to get you all to come to this dinner tomorrow by any means necessary. So I have an offer for you all.” 

This piqued everyone’s interest. 

“I think we should get a conversation with Percy rolling,” Bill said. He paused to press the ice against his already bruising nose. “But I don’t think we should just let him waltz back in. Be at family dinner tomorrow, and don’t  _ hit him,  _ and you can tell him or ask him anything that you like – Mum and Dad won’t say a word, I’ll make sure of that. Let him into the house, but he can earn his place at the table, I think. Whatever you’ve been wanting to say to him these past couple of years, say it. Be…  _ civil.  _ Please. And don’t hit him. Fred, that means you, too.  _ And you have to hear what he has to say, as well. _ ” 

“I should get to hit him because he won’t be able to hear me if I do talk to him,” Fred protested.

“Fred says he should be allowed to hit him ‘cause he can’t talk to him,” George said, to which Bill sighed heavily. 

“Mum won’t agree to that,” Charlie said.

“She said by  _ any  _ means necessary,” Bill shot back. “I’ll lay down the conditions of dinner for her, the same as you.” 

“I think you should do it,” Fred told George. “Tell Ginny and Ron and Charlie you should do it.”

George frowned at him. “You think?” he said. 

Fred nodded firmly. “Positive. You can really let him have it for the first time. It’ll be  _ excellent.  _ It’s still better than what he deserves but it’ll do. And anyway, I’m dying to know what this important question he’s got to ask is. Mum said it at lunch and it’s  _ killing me  _ that I don’t know what it is.” 

George considered this, then nodded back slowly. “Okay,” he said. He turned to the rest of his brothers and his sister, who were still arguing amongst themselves. George cleared his throat and they all turned their attention his way. “Ginny, Charlie, Ron,” he said. “Fred says we should do it. We should have dinner with him.” 

The three of them frowned.  “Why?” Ginny asked. 

George glanced at Fred quickly, and then back at Ginny, grinning wickedly all the while. “To let him have it, of course.” 

Charlie sighed. “Suppose we could put him through the wringer. _Civilly,_ of course. Chill out, Bill.” 

“That’s not a word,” Ron frowned. 

“What’s not a word?” Charlie said. 

“‘Civilly’.” 

“It is a word,” Bill cut in. “Now, as George was saying –” 

“Hey, wait a second," Charlie turned on Ron accusingly. "Did you think it wasn’t a word ‘cause it was me who said it?” 

“Not the time,” Bill snapped. 

“If that’s what Fred wants,” Ginny said, making eye contact with George. “If you swear it’s what Fred wants, then I’ll do it.” 

“Me, too,” Ron said. 

George and Fred smiled at one another again, a soft smile this time. Even though the rest of the room could only see one of them now, they nodded in sync. “We swear,” they said at the same time. 

Charlie groaned. “What a day,” he said, leaning back. 

“Tell me about it,” Bill grunted. 

“So, we’re all on the same page now, right?” Ginny said. “Percy’s coming to dinner but we’re going to bully him –” 

“We’re  _ not  _ going to bully him,” Bill said. 

“ _ You  _ said we can say whatever we like,” Charlie said. 

“Charles, please,” Bill said. 

“Don’t  _ Charles  _ me, William,” Charlie said. 

“Oh, just some light bullying,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes dramatically. 

Bill sighed but finally smiled. “Yes, very well. So long as it’s only  _ light  _ bullying,  _ Ginevra. _ . _ ” _

“Excellent,” Ginny said and nodded.

“And Fred’s ghost is here,” Ron said. 

“Yeah,” Fred said. 

“Yup,” George said. 

“What a day,” Charlie said again. 

“Glad that’s settled,” Ron sighed. 

“Mum and I are not on speaking terms, though,” Ginny said, directing her attention toward Bill. “And you can tell her I said so.” She waited until he had nodded and then she flicked her hair over her shoulder and stomped out of the room. 

“Right,” Bill sighed. He adjusted the ice and winced again. “Now, Charlie, as I was trying to say –”

“No, thank you,” Charlie cut him off. “I’m going to bed. It’s been… it’s been a  _ day _ .” He stood up. “George, if you need me I’ll be in my room. The rest of you, fuck off.” Then he stomped out of the room as loudly as he could manage. 

Bill sighed again. “Very well. Would anyone else like to storm out?”

George and Ron both shrugged. 

“On the contrary, I’m enjoying every moment,” said Fred.

“Fred says he’s enjoying himself,” George told Bill and Ron. 

“That makes one of us, then,” Ron said.

“George,” Bill said, turning to face him. “Would you mind telling me where Fred is so that I can ask him a question?” 

The corners of George’s mouth twitched upwards. “Yes, he’s – he’s right there,” he said, pointing to the fireplace where Fred was lingering once again. 

Bill smiled. “Thank you,” he said and turned to look at the spot where George had pointed. “I don’t really know how this is going to work. Charlie was right, after all. This isn’t how ghosts work. I’ve never heard of this happening. All the same, if you want a place at the table tomorrow then I will –”

“Tell him I don’t want to,” Fred said. 

“– speak with our parents –” Bill said. 

“Fred says he doesn't want to,” George said.

“I’d much prefer to watch from the sidelines,” Fred said. 

“Yes,” George said, nodding. “Fred likes to sit on the countertops and watch us at every meal. Like he’s watching his favorite show. He finds it fascinating.”

Ron swallowed hard. “Does he really?”

“Yeah,” George said. “That’s why your food exploded in your face the other day. I told you already, it’s not my magic that’s out of control. It’s  _ Fred’s. _ ”

“Fascinating,” Bill said. “ _ Fred  _ can _ …  _ you can pick things up, can manipulate things. You could  _ punch  _ me. And you can do magic. More than that, you are having magical outbursts, not unlike the ones we thought George was having. It’s unheard of.” 

“That’s me.” Fred grinned and winked at George. “One of a kind.” 

George laughed, but neither Bill nor Ron asked what he was laughing at.

***

Night had fallen and no family dinner had been served at the Burrow. The Weasley siblings avoided eye contact with one another as they retrieved food from the kitchen before retreating to their own corners of the house. Molly and Arthur dragged Bill into the den, locked the door, and put a Silencing Charm. 

“Okay,” Fred said when he and George were back upstairs. “As wonderful as it is that the family’s coming around the idea of this, I’ve gotta say I’m disappointed we’re not messing with them more. It’s less revenge, more… family therapy.” Without thinking, he leaned back against the window. The pot seemed to fall in slow motion. 

“No!” they both cried. 

Fred threw out his arms and squeezed his eyes shut.

George raced forward and grabbed hold of it right before it hit the ground. He stayed there, very still, for several moments before he looked up at Fred, who was blinking his eyes open. “That was… weird,” he said to Fred.

“Yeah,” Fred said, looking at the distance that George had traveled. “You… George, is it just me or should you not have been able to catch that plant?” 

“It fell in slow motion,” George said, blinking in rapid succession. 

Fred’s arms, still stretched out toward the plant, were tingling the way they did when he did magic. “Whoa,” he said. 

“Ghost powers?” George said. “D’you think?”

“I  _ do  _ think.” Fred’s face broke into a shit-eating grin. “Being dead really sucks but man, it has its moments.” 

George laughed. 

“Sorry I almost broke your Death Plant again.”

“It’s fine. Just stop calling it that.”

“Never gonna happen.” Fred knelt down to pick up a single violet petal that had fallen off the plant already. “Think the fall stressed it out or something?”

“Ugh,  _ probably, _ ” George groaned. He got to his feet and placed the African violet back on the window sill. He tried to remember the last time he had rotated the pot to keep the leaves from burning. He supposed the plant probably wasn’t facing the same way that it had been before, though. In the end, he rotated it for good measure. 

“Any chance you wanna play Gobstones?” Fred said then. “Can’t explain it, but I’m just dying for a game of –” he stopped. Fred and George locked eyes and stared at each other for a long time before bursting into laughter. They laughed and laughed and probably would have kept on laughing if not for the knock on the door. 

“Ginny?” George called. 

“Not Ginny,” came Charlie’s muffled voice through the door. 

George crossed his arms. “What d’you think, Freddie? Let him in?”

Fred rolled his eyes but smiled as he did it. “Yeah, I  _ guess  _ so,” he said laughingly. 

“All right,” George called. “You can come in, Charlie.” 

Despite being invited in, Charlie still looked nervous when he entered the room. He shut the door behind himself and leaned against it for a while. “Hi,” he said eventually. 

“Hi,” George echoed, and then they fell silent for a while longer.    
“Is, um…” Charlie began. “Is Fred here?”

“Yeah,” George said, nodding toward him. 

Charlie looked at the place where Fred stood for a while before nodding. “Can we… can we talk?” 

George shrugged. “Yeah. About what?” 

Charlie frowned. “George.” 

George sat down on the bed. “Charlie?” 

Charlie didn’t respond. 

Fred raised his eyebrows. “Well, this is going well,” he joked. 

George hummed. “Swimmingly.”

“What?” Charlie said. 

“Talking to Fred,” said George.   
“Right.” Charlie stopped talking again. 

“You wanted to talk?” George said. 

“Right.” Charlie nodded. “Right, erm – can I sit? With you? Or is… is Fred…?”

“Fred’s still by the window.” George gestured to the spot next to him. “Have a seat.” 

Charlie glanced back at the window for a second but nodded. “Cheers.” He climbed onto the bed next to George. “Right,” he said for the third time. “So, um…” he trailed off.

George glanced at Fred out of the corner of his eyes, trying to ask him what he should do with a look. Fred only shrugged his shoulders. Neither of them had ever seen Charlie get quite like this. 

“George,” Charlie said.

“Charlie, old boy,” George chuckled, but then he stopped because Charlie kind of looked like he was going to cry. 

“George, I am so sorry,” Charlie said. 

“Y-you’re sorry?” George said.

“Good,” Fred said.

“Fred says that’s good,” George said. “That you’re sorry. Um… what’re you sorry for?” 

“Wha–” Charlie frowned. “George, an hour ago you were furious with me –”

“I thought you and me were on good terms by the end of our chat in the living room,” George said. He frowned, too. 

“You did?” Fred said. 

“Yeah, but I still…” Charlie paused and shook his head. “I still owe you an apology.” 

“Damn right,” Fred said. 

George looked at Fred and then back at Charlie. “Er – okay.” 

Charlie swallowed hard. “I swear I didn’t realize I was doing it,” he said in a rushed tone. “But I know that doesn’t make it much better. Maybe it doesn’t make it at all. Might make it even worse actually.” He laughed nervously. “Um, but either way, I’m sorry for it. I didn’t wanna believe it at first but once I sat and thought about it for a little while, I realized. Oh, George, every time you said his name, he was all that I could. And I let it get to me so much that I wasn’t there for you, even though the only thing I’ve done these past few months is try to be there for you. I’m… I’m so sorry, George.” And then he did cry. 

“Jeez!” Fred exclaimed. “Second time I’ve seen Charlie cry inside of a week. The world must be ending.” 

“You all right, Charlie?” George said. 

“Am – am  _ I  _ all right?!” Charlie said. “George – !” 

“Calm down.” George moved to sit closer to his brother and clap him on the shoulder. “Hey, it’s all right, Charlie. It’s all right. I forgive you. Like I said to Bill, at least you were  _ there. _ ” 

“And – and I’m here for you now,” Charlie said. “Whatever you need to talk about, okay? You, too, Fred. We’ll have to talk through poor George, but I swear whatever you need from me… I’m here, yeah?” 

George smiled. “Yeah.” 

Fred was smiling, too. 

“And if you need help figuring out…” He gestured between George and the window. “Whatever’s going on here,” he sighed. “Then I’ll do what I have to. I can quit my job altogether and never go back and –”

“That’s okay, Charlie,” George cut him off, smiling. “I just want to be able to bring Fred up at dinner or tell a story that he's in without someone looking at me like I've smacked them.”

“Yeah, plus there’s  _ so  _ many good stories about me,” Fred said. “You’re missing out.” 

“Fred wants you to know that you’re missing out on a lot of really good stories,” George said. 

Charlie laughed, wiping his tears away. “Right, Fred,” he said. “We’ll start telling stories, then. You and me, George. And the rest’ll fall in line.”

George smiled at him. "Excellent," he said softly. 

“Also, I’m really sorry I tried to put you in the hospital.”

George laughed at that. “Yeah, don’t do that again.”

“Won’t,” Charlie said. “I promise.” 


	7. take my teeth (tear through my cheeks)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George and Fred spend some well-needed time with Charlie and Ginny now that they know the twins' secret. George has another nightmare. The members of the household each ready for Percy's arrival in their own way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: nightmares

Sometime after George and Charlie were done talking and had turned their attention to more pleasant topics of conversation, Ginny came along. “I didn’t want to bother you if you were going to sleep, but I heard voices and thought I might –”

“Come in, Ginny,” George said, still laughing at a joke that she had not heard. “Just close the door.” 

Ginny closed the door and pulled a chair up to George’s bedside so that she could sit with him and Charlie. She fell into their conversation easily and seemed pleased to find that Fred was a part of it, as well. There were a few moments when George struggled to both contribute to the discussion and repeat everything Fred was saying for Charlie and Ginny to hear; he kept cutting the others off without meaning to, and a couple of times he looked completely lost. But soon, the four of them fell into a rhythm, and then they talked late into the night. 

***

_ George didn’t know what year his brain wanted him to think that it was, which usually wasn’t a good thing. He didn’t know how old Not Fred wanted him to think he and Fred were. All George knew was that he was pissed off. He’d had such a nice nap earlier that day; he just wanted to sleep without being haunted by Fred’s doppelganger, given that he was already being haunted by Fred himself when he was awake.  _

_ George was sitting against the headboard of his four-poster bed in the dormitories that he had lived in while at Hogwarts. The curtains of his four-poster were drawn shut, but he could see Not Fred approaching through a slit in the fabrics. He looked young  _ –  _ quite young  _ –  _ which made George feel sick.  _

_ “What do you want?” George snapped. His voice came out higher than he had expected it to.  _

_ “Do you hear it?” Not Fred said. His voice was too high; too young.  _

_ George shook his head. “Hear what?”  _

_ Not Fred looked around, gasping sharply. “They’re coming.”  _

_ “Who’s coming?” George asked.  _

_ Not Fred grabbed onto one of the posts and stuck his arm through the curtains. “They’re coming to get me,” he said, panicked. He stretched his hand out as far as he could but George refused to reach back to him. “Don’t let them take me, Georgie!” he shrieked and then he was snatched out of sight.  _

_ George hugged his legs tightly against his chest. “F-Fred?” he said. “I mean  _ –  _ Not Fred. It’s not Fred. It’s not Fred.” He said it over and over again until he believed it, and when Not Fred started screaming then he had to say it even louder. “Not Fred! Not Fred! Not Fred!”  _

_ “George, please, help me!” Not Fred screamed and screamed and screamed, but George pushed it all out.  _

_ George clamped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut so hard that they hurt. “NOT FRED! NOT FRED! NOT FRED!” he cried until, eventually, he found himself falling through a dark void like the one you go to between when you fall asleep and when you begin to dream. He hoped that he was waking up now, or at least switching to a more pleasant dream.  _

_ Instead, he found himself in detention with Professor Snape. He glanced sideways to get a look at Fred  _ –  _ Not Fred  _ –  _ then looked back to the greasy-haired man who towered over him at present, Snape sneered at them both and George’s left ear tingled furiously when he did. Judging by the looks of things, George had to guess that this was meant to be their second year when they managed to land themselves in detention with Snape at least once every single week of term.  _

_ Snape was rattling on about something or other like he always did. Meanwhile, Not Fred was making eyes at the door like he was suggesting an escape. George shot him a look like he was crazy before he reminded himself this was all just a dream. “None of this is real,” he told himself then made a beeline for the door. Even as Snape shouted and swore at him, he just ran for it. None of it mattered. None of it ever mattered.  _

_ George ran faster, harder. He knew that Not Fred was following at his heel because he could sense his presence similar to the way he sensed Fred’s presence; Not Fred’s presence felt darker, though.  _

_ “Sectumsempra!”  _

_ George cried out when he heard Snape’s voice call out that terrible word. He ducked as low as he could get, hands clamped over his ears. “Not real,” he said. “Not real,” he said one more time, then turned around.  _

_ Not Fred was tumbling backward down the stairs, leaving a trail of blood behind him. The right side of his face had been blown off and he was a horrible, bloody sight. He crumpled to the ground and George’s nausea worsened greatly. “Not real,” he said to himself again. He had to turn away. Whether it was a dream or not, it was an awful scene that he didn’t want or need to witness in the least bit.  _

_ “George!” 12-year-old Not Fred cried out for him and he didn’t know how much more he would be able to stand. “He’s going to kill me, George! PLEASE!”  _

_ George had just about mustered up the courage to turn and look at Not Fred to see if maybe, possibly, there was something he could do. But just then there was a sharp tug behind his navel, like when traveling by Portkey, and he was pulled into another dark abyss. He fell backward. He fell and fell until he landed, hard, flat on his back.  _

_ On either side of him, a stampede of Hogwarts students was rushing past him. They screamed and narrowly avoided trampling him.  _

_ George tried to push himself up into a sitting position, but found that his spine had been glued to the floor  _ –  _ that’s what it felt like, anyway.  _

_ He clearly was not able to go anywhere as it were but to add insult to injury, Not Fred appeared out of nowhere and kneeled over him with a leg on either side of his ribcage. He pinned his arms against the cold floor at his elbows. He looked like he had aged a good year since the incident with Snape that had happened mere moments ago. His face was whole once more.  _

_ “You’re so stupid, you know that?” Fred  _ –  _ no, not Fred  _ –  _ spit into George’s face as he said it. “You could fix it all right now. You’re just too much of a coward.”  _

_ “What?” George said, his head reeling. “I’m… what?”  _

_ “You’re a  _ coward! _ ” Not Fred yelled, mere inches from George’s face. “Are you sure the Sorting Hat put you in the right place? Oh, but then again, I was Sorted first. And gods forbid I ever go anywhere without you following right behind me.”  _

_ “Not you,” George said, his voice quivering. “It’s not you,” he added, trying to sound a little braver.  _

_ Fred snorted.  _

_ ( _ Not  _ Fred.) _

_ Most of the Hogwarts students seemed to have cleared out, but George was still stuck to the ground. “What could I fix?” he asked in a small voice.  _

_ Not Fred’s face swam in his vision. “ _ You know. _ ”  _

_ George shook his head. “I don’t…” It dawned on him. “Oh.” He blinked. “Do… do  _ you  _ know how to fix it?” _

_ “Of course I know how to fix it,” Not Fred snapped at him. “The problem is that you can’t seem to figure it out. You’re a bigger idiot than I thought, Georgie.” He sat back and laughed. He laughed and laughed until blood was pouring from his mouth, and then he  _ still  _ laughed while George screamed beneath him.  _

_ Everything went black. Again.  _

_ “Fuck!” George tried to cry out but he couldn’t tell if he’d said it out loud or in his head. He flailed his arms about, unsure whether he was sitting up or lying down. Perhaps he was standing up straight. He couldn’t tell. He tried blinking and when he opened his eyes, he was sitting upright on a broomstick in the pouring rain.  _

_ “AH!” George screamed, reaching for the handle. His broom was slick from the rain and his bare hands slipped. For a brief moment, he thought that he was falling; the Quidditch pitch swam into view and all he was able to do was scream. _

_ Someone grabbed George by his hair, which was in terrible need of a trim, and yanked him upwards long enough for George to get a hold of his broom. “Look alive, Georgie,” Not Fred laughed, then soared away. _

_ The rain grew heavier and heavier until George could barely see a few feet in front of him. He squinted, struggling to pull his Quidditch goggles into place. “F-Fred?” he called out. He breathed heavily for a long time. “N- _ Not  _ Fred,” he quietly corrected himself after a while.  _

_ “GEEEEEEEEORGE!” Fred  _ –  _ not Fred!  _ –  _ cried. He screamed and screamed but it was growing further away.  _

_ “Fred?!” George didn’t know what to do. Fred was falling but he couldn’t see. He  _ couldn’t see.  _ Everything had gone back like between dreams, but he could still feel the rain on his face and he could still hear Fred’s cries growing fainter. “Fred! FRED!”  _

_ “ _ What,  _ George?” Not Fred huffed and, breathing heavily, George looked to his left and found that he was now sitting in a classroom, perfectly dry. His hair was even longer now and so was Not Fred’s hair. “You okay, Forge?”  _

_ “Don’t call me that,” George grumbled.  _

_ “Okay,  _ moody  _ today, are we?” Not Fred snapped back.  _

_ George frowned at him. “No, not one of these. Not today.  _ Please. _ ”  _

_ “What?” Not Fred said, rolling his eyes. “What are you on about now?” _

_ “Don’t act like you’re him,” George said, shaking his head. “I can’t take it. I get too confused.” _

_ Not Fred frowned at him like he was concerned, pressing the back of his hand to George’s forehead. “Seriously, are you ill? Do you need to go to Madame Pomfrey?”  _

_ George grunted and pushed his hand off of him, sitting back in his seat and crossing his arms. He fixed his gaze on the front of the classroom and refused to look at Not Fred. He did his best to block out whatever he said. He focused, instead, on the low buzz of conversation throughout the room. If he focused his energy enough, he might even be able to wake himself up. _

_ The classroom fell silent when the doors were thrown open and Remus Lupin marched into the classroom. Without a word, he set his things down on his desk. Without looking at the students, he said, “George Weasley.”  _

_ George frowned. Suddenly, everyone in the room was looking right at him. “Wh-what?” he said. _

_ “George Weasley to the front of the classroom,” Lupin said impatiently. “Today if you please, Mr. Weasley.”  _

_ George looked to Not Fred but he just stared back blankly like all of his other classmates were doing. He got to his feet, shaking. He was half-convinced that his knees were going to give way the whole walk up to the front of the classroom. He looked up at Lupin when he arrived there.  _

_ “Face it, George,” Lupin said. He seemed to tower over him.  _

_ “Professor?” George said.  _

_ “I said face it!” Lupin shouted, pointing to a wardrobe that burst open the moment that George looked at it.  _

_ A spinning blur of colors popped out of the wardrobe. Around and around it went for a while longer and then it stopped and was replaced with Fred’s body, lying bloodied and battered the same way he’d looked when George saw him for the first time after his death.  _

_ George suppressed a sob until Lupin drew closer to him and said, “How could your worst fear be something you’ve already  _ lived? _ ” Lupin grabbed George by the shoulders and whipped him around, but when George turned all the way around he found himself in a whole new place.  _

_ Instead of standing in front of a classroom of his peers with Professor Lupin holding him by the shoulders, he was standing at the edge of a forest and his peers were running into the forest, some of them screaming the names of their friends and families and some of them breaking into hysterics even as they ran away. George was the one grasping someone’s shoulders now  _ –  _ his sister’s. “Ginny,” he said in a relieved voice without really meaning to. He didn’t even know what was going on.  _

_ “There you are!” Ginny cried. She threw her arms around him. “Dad told me to stay with you and George no matter what but then I couldn’t find  _ – _ ” _

_ “I’m George.” _

_ “Oh.”  _

_ George waited for her to apologize like people usually did when they made that mistake.  _

_ “Where’s Fred?” she asked instead.  _

_ George turned around and suddenly realized how familiar this all felt. This had happened before. Images of cheering crowds and burly men on broomsticks and the Dark Mark in the sky flashed across his mind’s eye. The Quidditch World Cup, the summer before their sixth year; the Death Eaters attack to scare them less than a year before Voldemort returned. George remembered this moment where he couldn’t find Fred and he swore that he was dead. He convinced himself of it.  _

_ “George, where is Fred?” Ginny said insistently.  _

_ “I  _ –  _ I don’t know, Ginny,” George said. He frowned even deeper, turning around himself once again.  _ This isn’t Hogwarts. 

_ “Okay,” Ginny said. “W-well, we need to look for him then.”  _

_ George just stood very still because, if his memory served him correctly, Fred was about to show up with their elder brothers. So George just stood very still and looked around and waited.  _

_ Percy, Charlie, and Bill came running toward them and George’s heart dropped into his stomach. Ginny bolted toward Bill, but George was stuck in place. He felt like he was going to faint again.  _ _   
_ _ “George?” Charlie said. “What’s the matter, George?” _

_ “Where’s  _ – _ ” George sobbed. He didn’t mean to. He tried to stop but he couldn’t. “Where’s Fred?” _

_ Charlie and Bill shared a look while Percy looked at the ground. Charlie looked back to George with an expression George had only seen once before on their father. “George, I don’t know how to tell you this  _ – _ ” _

_ George stumbled backward, shaking his head frantically. “No, no, no, no. Don’t say it. This isn’t real.”  _

_ “George  _ – _ ” _

_ “This isn’t real!” George shouted. He turned around as sharply as he could, and to his own surprise, it worked. He shook his mind enough to change his dream and he found himself back at Hogwarts in a pink room. Very pink. _

_ “No,” George gasped, and pushed back as hard as he could against the nightmare; he pushed against his mind itself. He could bear to see a lot of things in his dreams, but he didn’t think that he could face Dolores Umbridge ever again, real or not.  _

_ He was relieved to find that, while he could catch a glimpse of the toad out of the corner of his eye, she was pushing him out of her office. Without thinking much of it, he walked back to the Gryffindor common room. His whole body shivered.  _

_ When he climbed through the portrait hole, George began to grow suspicious. This was feeling less and less like a dream with every passing moment. But surely, he thought to himself, if he were awake then he would be back at…  _

_ And suddenly, he couldn’t remember when he’d gone to bed the night before. He began to wonder if he was awake now.  _

_ George stopped and shook himself. “Can’t start thinking like that now,” he muttered.  _

_ “George!”  _

_ He looked up to see Fred  _ –  _ shit, not Fred  _ –  _ sitting by the roaring fireplace. “George,” he rushed over to George. “What’d she do to you? Are you okay?” He grabbed George’s bleeding hand to get a closer look at it. “Merlin.”  _

_ “Drop it,” George said groggily. He felt like he was going to faint. Could he faint when he was already asleep? Was he even really asleep? _

_ “She’ll pay for this one.” _ _   
_ _ “It’s fine.”  _

_ “She will.” _

_ “She won’t.”  _

_ “George.”  _

_ “I need to sit down.”  _

_ “Right. Let me help you.”  _

_ George pushed him off. “No,” he said. He sunk into the chair closest to the fireplace.  _

_ Fred sunk into the chair opposite him. “What d’you think it means?” _

_ “What?” George said in a distracted voice. ( _ Shit, _ he thought.  _ Not Fred,  _ he corrected himself.) _

_ “Your hand,” Not Fred said.  _ Not  _ Fred.  _

_ “It means Umbridge is a bitch,” George huffed.  _

_ Not Fred rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks. I mean, why’d she have you write  _ that? _ ”  _

_ George drew in a shaky breath. He closed his eyes and took a moment to breathe. When he was ready, he looked down at the fresh cuts on the back of his hand. They read:  _

**I must face my fears.**

_ “What does that mean, George?” Fred asked.  _

_ George shook his head, blinking back tears. “I don’t know.” _

_ “What does that mean?” Fred asked again, getting to his feet, _

_ “I don’t know.” George couldn’t stop himself from crying. He shook his head, but Fred pulled him to his feet all the same. Fred shook him hard.  _

_ “Tell me what it means,” Fred said insistently.  _

_ “I don’t know!” George cried. “No, no, no…” He shook his head. “Not you. Not Fred. Not Fred.”  _

_ “No?” Not Fred said. “How can you be sure?” _

_ George glared at him. “ _ Not  _ Fred.”  _

_ Not Fred chuckled. “Right, then,” he said, then promptly pushed George into the fireplace.  _

_ George didn’t even have time to cry out in surprise, let alone scream in pain. The world went black and then he sat upright in another chair. It wasn’t as comfortable as the big, cushioned one in the Gryffindor common room; but then, he supposed, it was far more comfortable than a burning fireplace.  _

_ He was now sitting in a kitchen chair at the Burrow. His wrists were tied together behind the back of the chair and his ankles were tied to the legs of the chair. He swore underneath his breath because he wasn’t at Hogwarts again. He swore underneath his breath because he remembered this, too.  _

_ Fred was on the ground.  _ Not  _ Fred. Except George really wasn’t sure this time. Whoever it was, Fred or Not, he was sprawled out on the floor with half of his face pressed into the carpet. He was grunting in pain. “G-George?” he said.  _

_ George squeezed his eyes shut. “No. It’s not you.”  _

_ He began to cry. “Please.” _

_ George drew in a deep breath and decided he might as well play along with the nightmare. Perhaps if he played along then the dream wouldn’t be quite so rough. “Are you okay?” _

_ Fred looked up at him, a crooked grin on his face  _ –  _ hadn’t he been crying a second ago? His lip was bleeding. “Never better,” he said.  _

_ Bellatrix Lestrange appeared from a corner of the room. George was  _ sure  _ that she hadn’t been there a moment before, but she was stalking into the center of the kitchen with her wand raised.  _

_ “No!” George cried.  _

_ “No!” Fred echoed.  _

_ She turned the tip of her wand toward Fred where he laid on the ground and hissed, “ _ Crucio! _ ”  _

_ Fred’s screams were sharp in George’s head. The hole in the left side of his head throbbed. _

_ “No!” George yelled again. “No, no, no! Stop!”  _

_ Bellatrix did, to George’s great surprise. She rounded on him instead, looking at him curiously. “I forgot. You don’t want to watch, do you?” _

_ “I don’t  _ – _ ”  _

_ “But you have to,” Bellatrix cut him off.  _

_ “I can’t  _ – _ ” _

_ “ _ Crucio! _ ” Bellatrix cried again, her wand pointed at George this time, Somehow, it was still Fred that writhed and screamed in agony. Bellatrix laughed higher than George had known was possible.  _

_ George’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he fell backward into yet another dark void. “Fred! Fred!” he cried, afraid to leave him alone with Bellatrix. But he had his own problems to deal with.  _

_ Now, George was sitting in his bedroom. It looked the same as it did in real life  _ –  _ rearranged, most of Fred’s things finally put away into storage. Fred’s ghost was leaning against George’s desk with his arms crossed. “Wh-what’s going on?” George asked him, his head still spinning from yet another change in scenery.  _

_ “Do you get it yet?” Fred huffed.  _

_ “What?” George said, frowning.  _

_ “I said, do you fucking get it yet?” Fred said. _

_ “Fred, what do you  _ – _ ” _

_ “ _ Not  _ Fred!” _

_ George’s bottom lip quivered. “N-not Fred?” _

_ “Can you get it through your thick skull already?” Not Fred surged forward and grabbed George on either side of his head. “You need to face your fears! Was that not clear when I had it cut into the back of your fucking hand?” _

_ George frowned. “What  _ –  _ do you control what nightmares I have?” _

_ Not Fred let go of him. He shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno. It’s all in your head, isn’t it?” _

_ George huffed. “Whatever it is, I’m getting really tired of it. What do you want?” _

_ “You  _ know  _ what I want, Georgie,” Not Fred snapped at him. He stalked away, lingering in by the desk again. “You’ve known what it is I want from you for weeks, in fact. I’m getting really tired of waiting.”  _

_ George backed up against the wall opposite Not Fred.  _

_ “Why won’t you give me what I want, George? I can only give you the thing that you want when you give me the thing that I want.”  _

_ George just shook his head in response.  _

_ “Did you ever consider that if you simply did as I asked then I might just go away?” Not Fred opened his palms wide as if releasing something, figuratively releasing George like a bird from his grasp.  _

_ “I have, yeah,” George finally spoke. “But I can’t do what you want me to. I just can’t. I keep on telling you that I can’t.”  _

_ Not Fred glowered at him. “Coward.”  _

_ “You couldn’t do it.”  _

_ Not Fred froze, actually taken aback. He stared at George for a long time. “Me?” he said, then laughed. “Oh, George, don’t you remember?  _ I’m not Fred. _ ” He stomped forward and stood so that their noses were only a couple of inches apart. He whispered, “I could arrange to see you dead right now and I could not care any less.”  _

_ “F-F-Fred,” George said. _

_ “F-F-Fred?” Not Fred mocked.  _

_ “H-he couldn’t do it,” George said. “Said it himself.”  _

_ “Oh, yeah?” Not Fred nodded. “Well, I don’t care.  _ He’s  _ not here, is he?”  _

_ George didn’t have an argument for that. He squeezed his eyes shut instead, hoping he could will himself awake. He felt as if he’d been asleep for ages.  _ Surely  _ he could wake up now? “Wake up,” he muttered to himself. “Wake up.”  _

_ “Trying that old trick again?” Not Fred sighed.  _

_ “Wake up!” George yelled.  _

_ Not Fred seemed to get fed up then and he finally walked away.  _

_ George kept screaming, “WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!” until it worked, or until Not Fred got bored enough to release him. He wasn’t sure which it had been, but all of a sudden he was  _ –

– sitting up in bed, breathing heavily. He could feel sweat running down his temple and yet he could have sworn his body was submerged in ice water. He cried out, a sob wracking his body like an earthquake. It was followed by another, and another, until George was sure he would cry himself to death. This certainly felt like suffocating. 

“George?” Someone cried from far away. “George!” they said again, and then there were a pair of arms around him. Someone slapped the side of his face and kept yelling his name. Charlie or Fred, he supposed. 

It took a few minutes to calm down enough to breathe properly, but George got there eventually. He leaned into whoever was holding him, laying his head upon their shoulder. He took several deep and steadying breaths. 

“It’s okay,” Ginny said in his ear. “It’s going to be okay.”    
“Can’t,” George said. 

“It’s okay,” Ginny said. 

“I can’t,” George said, sitting back up. 

“Can’t what?” Ginny asked. 

“Can’t do this anymore.” 

“Do what?” 

George shook his head. 

“Do  _ what? _ ” 

George tapped his own head. “Dreams.” 

Ginny frowned. “Okay. It’s gonna be okay. What can I do to help?”

George laughed, which was unsettling. “It’s not something you can do,” he said. “No, I need to do this for myself. It’s the only way. But thank you, Ginny.” 

She nodded. “Anytime.” 

Fred poked his head into the room. “George,” he whined. “Are you awake y– whoa, what’s going on up here?”

George laughed again and wiped his eyes. “Nothing, I’m fine,” he said. “Fred’s back,” he told Ginny. 

Ginny still hesitated for a moment, but she nodded and said, “Hi, Fred.” 

“Hey, Gin,” Fred said, smiling. 

“He says hi,” George said. 

“Are you okay, George?” Ginny asked. 

“Me?” George said. “Yeah, I’m great. I’ve actually been thinking life’s getting  _ too easy  _ lately.”

Ginny laughed dryly. “Very funny. But I’m serious. Are you doing okay?”

“Mhm.” George nodded. “Dreading this bloody dinner tonight, though.” He got out of bed and crossed the room to pick out some clothes. “Is that really the time? Percy’s coming in two hours.” 

Fred rolled his eyes. “Yeah. You can fucking sleep, that’s for sure.”

“Well, we didn’t go to sleep until –” George started. “Sorry, Gin – Fred’s  _ chastising  _ me for sleeping ‘til three. But –”

“We didn’t go to bed ‘til after  _ breakfast! _ ” Ginny said laughingly. “Don’t be rude, Fred. I only got up an hour ago.”

“Mind you,” George said. “Fred doesn’t need to sleep. So this is hardly a fair judgment.”

“All right, all right,” Fred said. “But we need a plan.”

“What?” George said.

“We need a plan,” Fred repeated. “We wanna mess with everyone, right? This dinner’s the  _ perfect  _ time to do that.” 

“Oh,” George said. “Um, Fred wants to come up with a plan to fuck with our family at dinner tonight.” 

“I want to  _ ruin  _ dinner,” Fred corrected. 

“Er – Fred wants to ruin dinner, he says,” George said. “I don’t know if that’s a good –” 

“Oh, well,  _ I’m  _ fully planning on ruining dinner,” Ginny said mater-of-factly. 

“Don’t forget we’re supposed to be  _ civil, _ ” George said. 

“Fuck that,” Fred said. 

But Ginny said, “Oh, I’m planning on it. Everyone’s going to be perfectly  _ civil.  _ In fact, I’m sure they’ll be  _ lovely.  _ No need to worry about that.” She smirked. “Come with me, boys.” 

George looked at Fred, then they both followed Ginny out of the room. They followed her to her own room where she ushered them in and then quickly clicked the door shut. Luna and Neville were chatting softly on her bed. 

“Oh?” George said.

“Interesting,” Fred said.

“Mum doesn’t know they’re here,” Ginny said. 

“ _ Oh, _ ” George said. “How’d you get past her? She must be making dinner by now, right?”

“Didn’t have to,” Luna said but didn’t elaborate any further. 

“Overheard Dad talking last week,” Ginny said. “He finally convinced Mum that they could take down the Fidelius Charm now. The war’s been over for three whole months now. She’s just being paranoid. Anyway, we can Apparate in and out of here again.” 

“Oh, excellent,” George said.

“Good to know,” Fred said. 

George hummed. “Hey, Neville. Hey, Luna.”

“Hey, George,” they answered together. 

“Er – Ginny?” George said, turning back to his sister. “Have you considered that when you pop down to dinner with your friends, Mum might just make them both leave?”

“Ah,  _ that’s  _ the thing,” Ginny said, grinning. “I asked her last weekend if Luna and Neville could spend this weekend at our house. She agreed. Said she’d be happy to have them.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s  _ Thursday  _ –” George said.

“Thursday evening!” Ginny said. “A perfectly reasonable time to arrive for a full Friday-Saturday-Sunday stay, wouldn’t you all agree?” 

“I think so,” Luna said. 

“It makes sense to me,” Neville said.

“I’m with then,” Fred said. “And they’re on summer break. They’ve got nowhere to be.”

“Okay, but we’re having this very special dinner with Percy tonight that you agreed to attend,” George said. 

“Mum wants us all to treat Percy like he’s family again, right?” Ginny said sharply. “Well, our friends have always been welcome at family dinner. So why should that be any different just because Percy’s rejoined the family for one night?”

George sighed. “Fair enough. I’m on your side. But Mum will make a fuss about it.” 

“I’ve already come up with a solution, though,” Ginny said. “Don’t worry.”

Luna and Neville nodded. 

Fred and George glanced at one another. 

“Well,” George said. “What’s the solution, then?” 

“Harry Potter.” 

“I don’t get it,” Fred said. 

“Care to elaborate?” George said. 

Ginny smirked at Luna and Neville, who were giggling at one another. Ginny marched out of the room without a word, leaving Fred and George alone with Luna and Neville. None of them attempted to make any kind of conversation while she was gone. A couple of minutes later, she returned with Ron, Harry, and Hermione all in tow. “I wanted to invited as many people as possible so I got Ron in on it,” Ginny said laughingly. “So, he invited Hermione and Harry, and, in the end, that solves our problem.”

“Does it?” George asked, unsure. “How?”

“Mum will never kick out our friends if  _ Harry’s  _ here,” Ginny said. “Honestly, she might not do it anyway. She’ll be pissed, for sure. But When’s she ever been known to turn anyone away? When they’re  _ hungry?  _ I don’t know.” 

“She’s got a point,” Fred said. 

“I guess, you’ve got a point,” George said.

“So how’re we going to ruin dinner?” Ginny asked. “I think a game plan  _ is  _ a good idea. We should each have one. Charlie’s problem brainstorming in his room right now. Do you think I should go get him? What do you think he has in mind?”

“Hang on,” Hermione said. “What do you mean ‘ruin dinner’?”

“Mean exactly what I said, Granger,” Ginny said as she flopped down on the bed and laid her head in Luna’s laps. Luna began an intricate braid trail down the center of Ginny’s scalp. 

“ _ Shuddup,  _ Ginny,” Ron hissed. 

“Ron?!” Hermione said. 

“Jeez,” Ginny huffed. She felt around for her wand and, without lifting her head, she cast a Charm on the door so that no one would be able to hear what was happening inside the room from the wall. “Granger, Mum and Dad don’t exactly know that you, Harry, Luna, or Neville is here.” 

“All… all right,” Hermione said. “Why not?” 

“‘Cause we’re trying to ruin dinner,” Ginny said. “ _ Duh. _ ” 

“Percy’s coming to dinner tonight,” George explained to Hermione since Ron clearly hadn’t filled her in on anything that was going on. Probably because she was much too sensible for it all. “For the first time in over two years.” 

“Okay,” Hermione said, putting on a stern expression and fixing it on Ron. “So,  _ why are you trying to ruin it?! _ ”

“Bloody hell,” Ron groaned. “ _ I’m  _ not even trying to ruin it. I just wanted some friends here if I’ve got to do this. I thought Ginny was doing the same thing. Sorry I’m not a bloody mind reader.” 

“Yeah, I’m doing the same,” Ginny said. “But I also really wanna piss Mum off.”

“Ginny’s my hero,” Fred sighed. 

“I feel like this is enough,” George said. 

“ _ More  _ than enough,” Hermione said. She was already pacing nervously. “Oh…” She bolted for the door. 

Ginny leaped off of the bed and chased after her, but she knew that she wouldn’t make it in time. “Stop her!” she shrieked. 

Harry, who was standing closer to the door than any of them, was able to pin himself to it and brace his hands on the door jamb before Hermione could get out of the bedroom. “Wh-what now?” he said, looking shocked that he’d done it. 

“Get out of my way, Harry,” Hermione snapped. 

“Where are you  _ going,  _ Granger?” Ginny said. 

“I’m going to tell Mrs. Weasley we’re all here,” Hermione said in a very courageous voice. Almost everyone else in the room rolled their eyes including Harry, who she was facing straight on. “Harry!” she cried. “After all she’s done for you, how could you want to do this to her?”

“Hermione, it’s not that big of a deal,” Harry said. “Listen to what she’s been doing. She’s bein unfair.” 

Ginny grinned. “ _ Thank you,  _ Harry,” she said laughingly. “Granger, you know she makes enough food to feed an army when there was just the nine of us, so imagine what she must be making tonight. We’ve got enough chairs in the house and we’ll squeeze – we’ve fit more with less. All in all, it’s not gonna ruin anything, okay? All it’s gonna do is make her mad. Can I have that, please? Can you give me this one thing?”

“ _ Please,  _ ‘Mione,” Ron said. “Just lay off. You don’t know what this place has been like the past few days.” He quickly looked at George. Panicked, he said, “I didn’t mean because –” 

“You’re fine, Ron,” George quickly cut him off. 

Hermione’s bottom lip trembled. “It’s just… it’s  _ so mean. _ ” 

The room was really quiet for a long time. Then Ginny said, “Sometimes people deserve it.” 

Hermione turned to look at Ginny for a few long moments before turning to leave the room again. She was blocked by Harry, who still had himself pressed against the door. Hermione rolled her eyes. “I just want to go back to Ron’s room,” she said softly. 

Harry looked at Ginny, who noticed this and nodded, while Ron started toward Hermione. “We’ll see you all in a bit, yeah?” he said, then he disappeared with both Hermione and Harry. 

“We need to go, too,” George said. 

“We do?” Ginny said. “Why?” 

“Oh, I didn’t mean you and me, Gin,” George said. “Sorry, I meant…” he trailed off, having realized his mistake too late. He glanced at Neville and Luna who were still sitting on Ginny’s bed, observing him with mild curiosity. 

“You mean you and Fred,” Luna said. 

George and Ginny almost hit their heads together whipping around to look at Luna and shout, “ _ WHAT?! _ ” Neville, on the other hand, looked only somewhat surprised by this. 

“Oh, holy shit,” Fred said, grinning. “Can someone else see me? Fucking plot twist.” 

“That doesn’t make sense,” George mumbled. 

“Luna,” Ginny said. “What… how…”

“Nargles,” Luna said. 

They all got very quiet. 

“Fucking nargles,” George laughed. 

“I knew as soon as I got here last weekend,” Luna said. “I wasn’t quite sure who knew and who didn’t know.” 

“W-wow, Luna,” Ginny said. 

“That’s pretty impressive,” George said.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” Fred said, shaking his head. He laughed, too. “Wow.” 

“Interesting,” Neville said. “How does that work? Can’t be a regular ghost, otherwise, we’d all be able to see him.” 

“Not this again.” Fred rolled his eyes.

“Er,” George said. “I’d love to tell you all about it, but like I said, we need to go. But – um – yes. Fred is… haunting – sorry, Fred! Not haunting! Fred is… a ghost. And he is… here.” 

“Wow,” Neville said. 

“How thoughtful of him to visit,” Luna said. 

“It  _ is  _ pretty thoughtful,” Fred said.

“Right,” George said, hardly able to believe this was all real. “Anyway, we’ve got to be off. See you at dinner.” He grabbed Fred by the arm and dragged him out the door, down the hall, and into his own bedroom. 

“What did we need to leave for, exactly?” Fred flopped down on George’s bed. 

“I had a nightmare,” George said. 

“Yeah, what else is new?” Fred said. 

“No, Fred, this one… this one was different. And also the same. Argh!” 

Fred frowned. “Okay, George, I’m listening. What’s the matter?”

“Okay, well, Not You was there – Not Fred – um –” George paused. He shook his head. “Okay, um, it started out in first year and went to second, and so on. The normal stuff at first. But then I wasn’t at Hogwarts. It was hard to tell if I was awake, ‘cause I wasn’t… it was so weird, for the very first time, one of these dreams wasn’t at Hogwarts.” 

“Where were you?” 

“Quidditch World Cup. After the Death Eater attack when we got… when you and I were split up. But then there was another one, as well! Different place, but again, not at Hogwarts. Sometime later. It was the time that all those Death Eaters came and questioned us at Bill’s wedding, and you and I were tied up in the kitchen.”

Fred tapped his chin. “Hm. It’s all very strange. I mean, why a break in the pattern now? But then again, these are your dreams. I feel like those can be pretty unpredictable, yeah? Maybe you’re looking into that bit too much. What happened next?” 

“Oh, gods, then I was in Umbridge’s office –” 

“ _ Umbridge? _ ” Fred frowned deeply and looked worried despite the fact he knew all of this was just a dream. 

“Yeah,” George said. “I was in detention and I had to use that awful quill that she made us use.”

Fred winced. 

“And then she pushed me out of her office and I went back to the common room and you were there – well, not  _ you,  _ but sometimes he acts like he’s you to trick, and this time he did. And he was fussing over my hand and asking me what it meant and I thought it was gonna be one of the stupid ones she actually made us do like, ‘I will respect my superiors’ or ‘I will follow the rules’. But then I go to read it and it says ‘I must face my fears’.”

“Face… your fears?”

“I think it means one in particular.” 

Fred frowned. “Okay. Which one?” 

George frowned back at him. He took a deep breath. “Fred, I think I need to –”

There was a sharp knock on the door and then it swung open. Arthur Weasley stepped into the room and smiled his brightest smile at George. “Ah, good,” he said. “You’re awake. Ready to come down? Percy’s just arrived.” 

Fred and George shared a dreadful glance between them. 

“Oh, no,” Fred said. “Here we go.” 


	8. take my brain (or what remains)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy comes to dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: difficult family situations, mentions of mental hospitals, mentions of hallucinations, some talk of mental illness in a derogatory way, mentions of sex

“Okay, off we go,” Arthur said, still smiling. He held a hand out to George. “Percy’s brought someone along with him. It’s very important we all come to dinner with an open mind, yes?” 

This seemed to pique Fred’s interest. “Who’s he brought with him?”

George sighed. “Who’s he brought with him?” he asked. 

“Percy has brought his boyfriend with him,” Arthur said. 

“Oliver Wood’s here?” George said. 

“In our kitchen?” Fred said.

“Right now?” George said. 

“Right now,” Arthur confirmed. 

The twins seemed to forget all about the very serious matter that they had been discussing minutes earlier. They both got up and hurried to follow Arthur.

Charlie had tucked himself into a corner of the kitchen, pretending to examine some biscuits that Molly had set out on a table. Percy was standing alone while Bill and Oliver were standing on the opposite side of the table having friendly conversation; apparently, everyone was electing to ignore the dark bruise covering Bill’s nose. Percy seemed to be anxiously watching his brother and boyfriend talk to one another. Molly was still busy preparing dinner, but she would periodically flit nervously about the perimeter of the room, trying to drag Charlie toward the center of the kitchen when she reached him in the corner. Arthur disappeared before anyone could even think about trying to talk to him. Charlie pushed Molly off of her with a low grunt that no one else in the room could make out and Molly appeared to give up at long last. 

Fred leaned in closer to George. When he spoke, he whispered even though no one else could hear him anyway. “This is brilliant,” he said laughingly. 

“Certainly interesting.” 

“What was that, George?” Percy said brightly. 

“Nothing,” George said quickly and walked away. 

“Oh, dear, now where’d your father go?” Molly said anxiously. “And where are Ginny and Ron? Oh, I’ll be right back.” She stomped out of the room in search of Ginny, Ron, and Arthur. 

Fred and George shared a nervous look. 

“What d’you reckon will happen?” Fred said.

“I don’t know,” George said, shaking his head. “Can’t be anything good though.”

“She won’t kick them out. Not with Harry here.”

“No, but –”

“George!” someone cried. 

“ _What now?_ ” George huffed. 

“Oh, look!” Fred said. “Look who it is!” He pointed over George’s shoulder. 

George turned and saw that Oliver Wood was walking toward him and waving. “Oh, for the love of Gryffindor,” George whispered. “This ought to be good.” 

“Mm, for the love of Gryffindor, indeed,” Fred said, smirking. 

“ _What?_ ” 

“Nothing.” 

“ _George,_ ” Oliver said when he’d managed to make his way across the cramped kitchen. “It’s been too long. How’re ye doin’?” 

_Stupid question,_ George thought, but he told him, “Oh, I – I’m good. Yeah. And yourself?” 

“Oh, never better,” Oliver said. 

“Wow, good for you, Wood,” Fred snorted. “If only we could all be so fortunate.” 

“Aye, Quidditch will be startin’ again very soon,” Oliver said. “The war bein’ over an’ all, we’ll have a season startin’ out in November. An’, of course… well, ye know…”

George raised his eyebrows. “I _don’_ t know. What?” 

“Oh, I –” Oliver shook his head. “Never mind, then,” he said, his voice cracking. 

George and Fred both frowned deeply at Wood, and then briefly at one another. 

“Oh, we haven’t seen each other in such a long time,” Oliver said, pulling George’s attention back to him. “I haven’t had the chance to offer ye my condolences yet. I was so sorry when I heard about Fred.” 

Fred and George both raised their eyebrows at him, and then George, pleasantly surprised by how easily Oliver had mentioned him, smiled softly. “Thanks, Wood,” he said. 

“How’ve ye been doin’?” 

“Wood, we already did this part.” 

“Yeah, but now I’m askin’ ye _how’ve ye been doin’._ It’s quite a different thing, George.” 

“As well as can be expected I suppose,” George said. 

Oliver nodded. “Good, good,” he said, and then neither of them knew what else to say. 

“Oliver?” Percy called eventually. 

“Comin’,” Oliver said. “See ye, then, George,” he said, then went to Percy’s side and joined in his conversation with Bill. 

George huffed. “Well, that was –” he huffed, but cut himself off when he saw the look on Fred’s face; eyes glassy eyed with an absent smile, he was staring into space. “What’s up with _you?_ ” 

“What?” Fred said, his eyes focused and he turned his gaze onto George. “What did you say?”

“I asked what’s up with you,” George said. “You look like you’re gonna pass out.” 

“Oh, nothing,” Fred said, smiling. 

“What’re you _smiling_ about?” George said. 

“Shut up,” Fred said and he walked away. 

George scoffed at him. 

Arthur and Molly returned with Ginny and Ron both in tow. Neville, Luna, Harry, and Hermione were nowhere in sight, but Ginny and Ron kept smirking at each other so George could only assume that this was all part of their plan. 

“He’s _early,_ ” Ginny grumbled to George when she and Ron passed by him. They seemed to be sticking to each other’s sides for the time being. 

George made to get closer to Charlie and stick with him since Fred had abandoned him out of nowhere, but Molly appeared in front of him, seemingly out of thin air. “George, darling, a word in the sitting room?”

George stumbled backward. “M-Mum,” he said. 

Molly held an arm out. “Please?”

“I – I don’t know if I should leave –” George made to look around for Fred, but Molly took hold of George’s hand and tugged him toward the den. “ _Mum,_ ” he hissed, but he didn’t try to get away. 

Molly sat him down on the sofa with her and then she just looked at him for a while. She regarded his hair, which was well past its need for a trim. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind George’s ear. 

“Mum?” George said softly. 

“George,” she said and tried for a smile. “I was thinking about it and… I wanted to say that… well, I just think it would be best if you didn’t mention… F-Fred... to Oliver.” 

George looked affronted. “Excuse me?” he said, leaping to his feet. “Oliver mentioned Fred to _me._ ” 

“He – wh-what – ?” 

“He said that he was sorry to hear about Fred and –”

“Oh! Well, that’s all right. I just think you ought not to mention… well, you know –” 

“Oh, you don’t want me to tell Wood that Fred's haunting me,” George said, even though he knew that Fred didn’t like the term ‘haunting’. Fred had abandoned him anyway. “Or, you don’t want me scaring Percy’s new boyfriend off with a ghost story.”

“That’s not –” Molly started, getting to her feet, as well. 

“You don’t even _believe me._ What does it matter to you? You don’t think he’s really here.”

“That’s not fair,” Molly said.

“Isn’t it?” George said. The two of them stared each other down for a while, neither of them willing to say another word. George was just beginning to think that they would stay like this forever, in a stalemate, when knocking could be heard coming from the kitchen. 

“Well, now, who could that be?” Molly grumbled and, without so much as a nod in George’s direction, she bustled out of the room, mumbling to herself beneath her breath. 

Despite how upset George was by the conversation with his mother, he followed her to the kitchen shortly after she left the room. He had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what was about to happen. 

In the kitchen, Molly was opening the door to find Neville, Luna, Harry, and a very disgruntled looking Hermione standing on the front doorstep. Molly turned slowly to face Ron and Ginny and glare at them. 

“What?” Ginny said pointedly.

“ _Get over here,_ ” Molly demanded, snapping her finger. 

Ron cowered away, but Ginny flicked her hair over her shoulder and strode across the kitchen to the doorway where Molly leaned in and said something to her quietly enough that George couldn’t hear it, although he did see Neville’s eyes widen in fear. Ginny straightened up, one eyebrow raised. “I don’t know _what_ you’re talking about,” she said. “You told me last week that my friends could spend the weekend, and Harry and Hermione are here all the time.” She glanced around out of the corners of her eyes, then added, “Why should today be any different, right? C’mon, you two.” She took Luna and Neville by the hands and dragged them into the kitchen. 

“ _Ginevra_ –” Molly called after her. “Oh!” 

Hermione, who was now rocking back and forth on her heels, stepped forward in a rush to say, “Oh, Mrs. Weasley, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know –” 

“– that you were already having people over tonight,” Harry quickly cut her off. “We are so sorry about that. We had no idea. It’s just, er... I was just really hoping to come and see you all tonight… you know…” he trailed off, shrugged his shoulders, purposefully cast his gaze downward. 

The Weasley children were all quite impressed with his performance. They all waited with bated breath to see how Molly was going to react to this. They were somewhat concerned about Hermione who still with the appearance that she had something to get off her chest, but Ginny had been right to predict that Molly would never kick _Harry_ out of the house. She pulled Percy aside briefly and they seemed to come to a quick agreement, Percy nodding to her while she spoke, and that was that; Harry, Hermione, Luna, and Neville were to stay for dinner.

The table was already set so everyone grabbed a plate and filled it from the spread of food that Molly had on the countertops as she was setting out the last few trays. Fred, having realized that there was no counter space left for him to seat himself upon, returned to George’s side. 

“Oh, _there_ you are,” George mumbled, his voice easily masked by the buzz of chatter that was growing in the room.

“We need to figure out a way to ruin dinner,” Fred said. “Quickly.” 

George sighed. “Never any patience with you,” he whispered. “Why don’t you let it simmer for a little while. See what happens.”

“Let it _fester_ more like.” 

George rolled his eyes at Fred, then realized that he and Molly were the only two people left standing. 

When Molly gestured for George to take his place at the table, he did. He was seated between Charlie and Bill, which he couldn’t help but think was a strategic decision on his parents’ part. (George thought that the bruise on Bill’s nose looked worse up close.) 

Oliver Wood, ever the mighty Gryffindor that he wanted people to think that he really was, took the seat to Molly’s right, across from Bill. It was a show of bravery that even Ginny, who was the most determined out of all of them to ignore what was going on at the other end of the table, could not ignore. 

George was actually quite pleased to be seated so close to Oliver Wood until he looked to Wood’s right, the seat that was opposite his very own, and he remembered who was bound to be sitting next to their former Quidditch captain. He sighed. 

“Hi, George,” Percy said, his voice high when George caught his eye. He cleared his throat. 

George nodded back to him. “Hello, Percy,” he said as politely as he could muster. 

“This is bloody brilliant, it is,” Fred said laughingly, resting his hands on George’s shoulders. 

As subtly as he could manage, George glanced over one shoulder at Fred, puzzled. 

“It’ll be so much easier to mess with him later,” Fred explained. “He’s right there. Just pay attention to them for now. I’m gonna try and come up with some kind of plan.” 

George only felt slightly worried about this. Since waking up, not much more than an hour earlier, George had been apprehensive toward the idea of deliberately ruining dinner. It seemed like a lot of work for very little payoff and, as he had already made clear, he didn’t want to go to war with Percy; he just didn’t want to see him or talk about him anymore.

But now, George turned back to the dinner table with a rejuvenated spirit. This wasn’t _really_ about ruining dinner and, now that he was in the thick of it, he realized that. He reached across the table to grab a bread roll and then he buttered it with a sense of newfound purpose.

“Everything all right, George?” Bill asked, smiling. 

If George were being honest then he would tell Bill that no, he was not all right. Because if he were to be honest with himself – really and truly honest – then he would admit that he had been in a right state for months. Ever since Fred died he kept telling himself that he was getting there, but he sat and there asked himself: _where am I really getting?_ And the truth was that he hadn’t been getting anywhere. Not for the first three months, at least. He’d been a sulking wreck for three months, unable to be anything more than that, and when Fred arrived in ghost form, George had thought that everything was even worse. 

George sat silently for a while, and no one mentioned it. They never did. Everyone carried on in conversation with one another and let him be, so George sat silently and took stock of the past seven days of his life and realized, like waking up for the first time in a long time, that he wasn’t getting worse. He was finally grieving. 

“Everything’s great, Bill,” George said at long last. 

Bill looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?” he said. “Good.” 

Molly’s eyes darted anxiously to George, but she need not have worried so much. Not yet, anyway. Fred and George were at it again, and a scheme like this took a little bit of time.

At the other end of the table, Ron and Harry had their heads ducked together in conversation. At the beginning of dinner, Hermione had abandoned them, apparently still upset with them; as if to make a point, she was sitting next to Percy and immersed herself in a conversation with him about his work. Ginny, Luna, Neville, and Charlie seemed oblivious to the important family dinner that was happening as they were lost in hysterical conversation with one another. Bill and George were exchanging short comments every so often while Percy and Oliver were having a lively conversation with Molly. 

Eventually, Oliver turned to the rest of the table and asked, loud and clear, “So, tell me, who’s goin’ to be Quidditch captain for Gryffindor this year?” 

Conversation died down immeditaley and there were a few moments of silence before Ginny said, “Me.” 

“Are you really, Ginny?” Percy said, smiling. 

“Don’t have to sound surprised,” Ginny said. 

“No, I’m not,” Percy said quickly. “Congratulations.” 

Ginny didn’t respond. 

“How long’ve ye been on the team?” Oliver asked.

“Since my fourth year,” Ginny told him.

“Oh?” Oliver said and looked like he was thinking hard about something. “Who did ye replace that year? George, Fred, and Angelina were all still there until the year after, if I’m not mistaken.” 

Not one of the Weasleys, except for maybe Percy, missed the easy way that Oliver Wood said Fred’s name, most of them marveling at the way he said it like he didn’t have to think about it at all. George cracked a grin at him. 

Ginny looked bemused. In a somewhat cautious tone, she told him, “Harry, George, and –” she still hesitated before she said his name, but it really was only a second. (George felt almost guilty for catching it.) “– Fred got banned from the team that season. I took over as Seeker for the rest of the year..” 

Oliver turned to gape at George. “Did ye really?” 

George couldn’t help it – he smirked. “Yeah,” he said. “We beat the crap out of Malfoy one day after a game. Right on the field.” 

Molly tutted. 

Oliver barked out a laugh. “Fantastic!”

Percy raised his eyebrows at Oliver with a look of amusement. “You wouldn’t have thought so when you were Captain,” he said. “You would’ve had their heads.” 

George mirrored Percy’s expression. “And you would’ve been any better if you’d been there?” he said. 

Percy turned to him. He looked a little nervous, but he cleared his throat and said, “No, I would’ve given you detention for the rest of the term.” 

George smiled but his eyes stayed dark. “We did get detention for the rest of term,” he said, holding up the back of his hand to display the white scars to Percy, who promptly turned whiter than a ghost. He watched Ginny, Luna, Neville, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Fred as their fingers flew to touch their own fading marks from the abuse that Umbridge inflicted that year. 

“I _would’ve_ had yer heads,” Oliver agreed with Percy, moving on swiftly. “Every last one of ye. An’ I’m sure Johnson had them on a plate. But as I am, an’ was no longer, Captain of Gryffindor team, an’ as I think all the Malfoys are right slimy gits, I think it’s fantastic ye let him have it in front of half the school.” 

“Oh, way more than half,” Ginny laughed. 

Oliver laughed, too, then turned back to George and frowned slightly. “Mind ye, I _am_ sorry to hear that ye an’ Fred didn’t get to finish your final year of _Quidditch._ ” 

Almost every Weasley caught it again this time, but only a few of them took such obvious notice of it. Bill still smiled and Molly still looked up with wide eyes, but the conversation still moved on without much more of a hiccup than that. 

“I heard a rumor that Ravenclaw’s trying out for a few new team members this year,” Charlie said.

“Yes,” Luna said without looking up from her plate. “Two have graduated, and three of them died this year.”

“Oh,” Charlie said. “I… I’m sorry, Luna, I –”

She looked up then, seemingly unaffected. “I think I may try out. I had such fun when we played on Harry’s birthday.” 

Halfway through dinner, the Weasley children seemed to have forgotten about the deal that had been made with their eldest brother – the very reason that some of them had agreed to be present at dinner in the first place. Molly must have been hoping so with all of her might; she seemed to have let go of the fact that her children invited their friends to an important family meeting without telling her, which was probably because their friends were actually helping the dinner go over much more smoothly. Even Fred had given up walking circles around the table in favor of leaning against the sink and watching them all. 

Hermione and Percy had been deep in conversation about Ministry legislation before the discussion of Quidditch, but Percy didn’t seem to want to talk about that anymore. Instead, he asked Hermione about what classes she was going to be taking in the upcoming school term.

“Wait, Hermione, you’re not going back to Hogwarts this year, are you?” Ginny said when she managed to overhear part of Hermione and Percy’s conversation.

Hermione looked up at her, eyebrows raised. “I am,” she told Ginny in a clipped voice. “I’d like to take my N.E.W.T.s since I was on the run last year, and all.” 

“Right,” Ginny said, then turned back to her conversation with Luna and Neville. 

Sometime later, Oliver was asking George about the shop when he said Fred’s name in passing for a third time at the dinner table, which is more than most of the Weasleys had done since May. Molly, the only one still especially taken off guard by this, made a squeaking noise when Oliver mentioned Fred and conversation died at once. 

Percy frowned. He hesitated a moment, but then he said, “Is something the matter, Mother?” 

“ _Mother,_ ” Fred said mockingly, rolling his eyes as hard as he could. “Even if he is a prat, at least Percy’s good for a laugh.” 

“No, nothing’s the _matter,_ ” Molly said. “Oliver, dear, you seem perfectly comfortable talking about…” she trailed off. 

Oliver blinked. He looked to Percy for assistance, unsure of how to proceed. 

Percy looked at her expectantly. “ _Fred?_ ” he said when she did not.

Charlie, Ron, and Ginny all looked at Percy. With wide eyes and mouths that hung open, the three of them looked to Percy, half in amusement, half in amazement. 

Molly blinked but then nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Which is just… _lovely._ ” 

Hermione caught George’s eye and then she said, “Well, why shouldn’t he be? Why shouldn’t we _all_ be? Isn’t that what you were telling me earlier, George?”

George smirked at her. “Yeah,” he said, even though he knew that _he_ had told her nothing of the sort. For the first time in a long time, he felt so very grateful for Hermione Granger. 

“Er, Mrs. Weasley, I’m so sorry if I’ve offended or upset –” Oliver began, but Percy cut him off. 

“No,” Percy interrupted him, but his gaze didn’t leave his mother. “Why _shouldn’t_ we be?” 

“ _We?_ ” George said, and barked out a laugh of his own. “Four days ago you wouldn’t look me in the eye when I said Fred’s name. Don’t act like you’re any better than them just because you said it back to me one time at lunch –” 

“ _George,_ ” Molly said warningly. 

“George, what are you talking about?” Percy asked, frowning. “I wouldn’t talk about – _that_ – but I talk about Fred all the time. I think about him every day. I do everything that I can not to let him slip away.” 

Fred slowly walked up behind Percy’s chair, frowning down at him with a look that George couldn’t have deciphered if he tried. He didn’t try, though; he was too busy berating Percy. 

“Yes, well, that’s wonderful,” George said. “But you, like the rest of our family, wouldn’t talk about Fred with _me._ Now, Wood has been a _splendid_ conversationalist, talking to me about Fred like he existed instead of like he was just a figment of my imagination. Talking to me like I’m a person instead of like I’m something that’s going to break.”

Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth. George avoided looking at anyone else. He kept his eyes fixed on Percy. 

“I really don’t wanna get in the middle of –” Oliver started. 

“George, I swear, that’s not the case,” Percy cut him off again. He shook his head. “You’ve got to believe me. I try not to even think about... what you brought up at lunch last weekend. But I’ve never avoided talking about Fred since he died. I wasn’t avoiding you specifically, we just – we didn’t see each other, and then when we did you wanted – George, I couldn’t –” 

“I don’t believe you,” George said, not even sure if that was the truth. 

Percy sat very still. He looked like he was hard at thought, searching for the right words to say. His breath was quick, and growing even quicker. For a long time, no one dared say anything. Not even Fred, George noted. All eyes were on George and Percy. Silence permeated the dinner table. They were all afraid to move, let alone speak. But then, at long last, Oliver seemed to decide that Percy required saving in this instance. “Ye were just tellin’ me a story about Fred last night, weren’t ye, Perce?” he said. 

Percy looked to Oliver, eyebrows raised again. “Y-yeah,” he said, unsure of what that had to do with anything. 

Oliver just nodded to George. 

Percy gaped at him but turned back to look at George all the same and found that he looked expectant, so Percy sighed. “Very well, then,” he said. “I was – well, I was just thinking, you see, and I happened to remember this one time when we were in Egypt.” He paused, as if expecting someone to tell him to stop. When no one did, he drew a deep breath and pushed on. “Ginny and Ron were tired. Mum and Dad were both tired, as well. They were going to take all four of you – Ginny, Ron, Fred, and you – back to the hotel for some downtime. But, you and Fred weren’t having any of that. You fought tooth and nail to be allowed to stay out with us. In the end, Mum was too tired to argue anymore so she left it up to Dad, and Dad didn’t care much. So you were allowed to stay out with me, Bill, and Charlie while the others had a nap.” 

“Oh,” George said. “Is that all?” 

“Y-yeah, pretty much,” Percy said. He shrugged his shoulders. “It was just something that I thought of. I don’t know.” 

“An’ then I was tellin’ Percy about this one time when Fred was late for Quidditch practice – even ye didn’t know where he was, George – and I went up to the castle while the rest of ye warmed up,” Oliver began.

“Wait, does Wood talk about me a lot, too?” Fred said. This seemed to interest him far more than finding out that Percy spoke of him often, which George thought was odd. “Does he?” he asked, but George was keeping up appearances and pretending to listen to Oliver’s story. “ _George,_ ask him if he talks about me often.” 

“Fine!” George cried, annoyed, and Oliver fell silent. Everyone looked to him anxiously. He huffed, and asked Oliver, “Sorry just… _I_ was wondering… Do you talk about Fred _often...?_ ” 

“Oh,” Oliver said. “I don’t know. Sometimes. Percy an; I have talked about him plenty, I suppose, since May.” 

“Yes, well, Percy’s kind of Fred’s brother,” George said.

“What do you mean _kind of?_ ” Percy gritted out. 

George rolled his eyes but ignored Percy in favor of asking Oliver, “What are _you_ talking about Fred for?” 

“ _George,_ ” Molly said. 

“Oh,” Oliver said again. “I – I mean, we were friends –”

“Were you?” George said.

“George,” Fred said warningly. 

“ _George,_ ” Molly said. “Be polite.”

Oliver opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He appeared not to know what it was he wanted to say. Percy looked to be in a similar state, but he had the sense to keep his mouth shut. 

“I don’t remember you and Fred being particularly close is all,” George said. “‘Cause I don’t remember you and _I_ being very close, outside of Quidditch, and Fred and I were never apart.” 

“Aye, well, you see...” Oliver said.

“ _George,_ ” Fred said again. “Just drop it.” 

George looked above the heads of the people seated opposite him. “You wanted me to ask in the first place.”

Oliver frowned. “Who are you talking to, George?” he asked slowly. 

“George,” came the warning. From Arthur this time. 

“George,” Fred said for the third time. “I need to tell you something that I’ve never told you before.” 

George looked up at him, mouth agape. He didn’t speak. He _couldn’t_ speak. He couldn’t imagine what Fred was about to tell him because he couldn’t imagine something that Fred would ever keep from him. _He_ never kept anything from Fred – not in life, anyway. In fact, until this very moment, George hadn’t known that there were any secrets between the two of them at all because _they told each other everything._ The rest of the Weasleys and Oliver Wood were speaking to George, trying to get any kind of answer out of him, but he couldn’t look away from Fred. 

“Right, well, uh,” Fred sighed. “Here goes nothing, I guess.” 

George couldn’t remember when he had ever seen Fred so nervous to tell _him_ something.

“I had sex with Oliver Wood,” Fred said. “Three times,” he added. 

George stopped being angry at Fred for keeping a secret from him at once. There were a few different reasons for this, but the most important one was that this information was the funniest news that George had received in a very long time. He burst into a hysterical fit of laughter and everyone around him assaulted him with a flurry of questions: “What’s so funny?”, “What on earth?”, “What’s come over you, George?”, “What are you laughing at?”, and “What’s the matter?”. 

Fred smiled self-consciously, his cheeks bright red. “You’re not mad?” he said. 

“Oh, for god’s sake!” George cried, still laughing. He looked at Oliver Wood and without putting very much thought into it, he yelled, “You slept with Fred!” across the table. 

Ginny matched George’s laughter at once. This time, so did Charlie. Ron, Harry, and Neville all choked on their food. Molly made that weird little squeaking noise for a third time and, this time, Hermione made the same one. 

“I – I _beg_ yer pardon,” Oliver said. “ _Why_ –” but he couldn’t seem to finish that sentence. 

Percy looked mortified. 

“You slept with Fred,” George said, leaning back in his chair and looking far too smug for the matter at hand. “ _Three. Times._ ” 

“Oh, my god,” Bill muttered, burying his face in his hands. 

“How nice,” Luna mused. “Harry, can you pass the potatoes?” 

“I – I don’t –” Percy shook his head. “I can’t believe this is happening right now.” 

Oliver didn’t speak for a long time but when he finally did it was to say, “I wasn’t aware he’d _told_ ye –” 

George and Ginny both laughed even harder at his admittance. Bill couldn’t bring himself to remove his face from his hands just yet. Charlie laughed so hard that he cried and had to get up from his seat, face the corner of the room, and take a moment. 

“Bloody hell,” Ron said slowly. 

Fred, ironic as it was, looked like he wished he could disappear. 

“Hardly appropriate dinner conversation, _really,_ ” Hermione said primly. “Anyway,” she said, seemingly eager for a change of topic, “Percy, as I was saying about Advanced Potions, I _think_ –”

“Oh, I know that _you_ don’t wanna get involved right now, Granger,” George laughed, and that cheered Fred right up. 

Ginny did not laugh this time. She frowned at George for a long time (and so did Ron). “Wait a minute…” Ginny said slowly. 

“Okay, let’s just –” Arthur called over all the commotion. 

“Seriously,” Percy turned to face Oliver. “This isn’t fair, right?” 

Oliver looked far too bewildered to answer that question at present. 

The wheels were clearly turning in Ron’s head; Harry’s, too. Luna and Neville looked like they’d already figured it out, but were choosing to keep it to themselves. 

Apparently Ginny was taking a few moments to let the information sink in, but when she was finished, she cried, “Did Hermione sleep with Fred?!”

The table exploded into a flurry of voices. Even Bill removed his face from his hands to join into the argument that was quickly breaking out amongst the Weasleys while their dinner guests sat and watched with their mouths hanging open. 

Amidst all the noise, Oliver caught George’s eye. Eyeing Percy nervously, he leaned in and said, “I’m… _sorry,_ George. I was not aware that Fred had told ye about that before he passed.”

George suppressed an eye roll like he always had to when someone said that Fred had _passed away_ or _passed on._ “ _Just say what you really mean,_ ” George wanted to tell them. “ _He died. A wall blew up in his face and fucking killed him._ ” 

“He didn’t tell me before he died,” George said loudly so that everyone could hear him. If they weren’t going to listen, he was going to make them hear him. “He told me just now.” 

Oliver blinked. “Um. What?”

“Oh, _this_ ought to be good,” Fred said, grinning. 

“Stop it,” Molly said quickly. “George, can I see you in the living room?” 

“No,” George said. “ _Percy,_ our mother’s been trying to shield you and your boyfriend from the chaos of the house. She doesn’t want you to know what’s been going on here.” 

Fred grinned even wider. “Oh, here we go.” 

Percy, for his part, took such an ominous statement in stride. He sat up a little straighter and nodded slowly. “I did think everything seemed a little too normal,” he said at last, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. “Go on, then, George. Tell us the truth of this place.” 

“ _George_ –” Molly said. 

“It’s okay, Mum,” Percy said. “Whatever George wants to say, I am here to listen.” 

George nodded. He took a deep breath and wished he’d had more time to talk to Fred before all of this. Fred probably thought he knew what was about to happen, but he really didn’t. George shook his head. He just needed to say it: _Fred’s a ghost, he’s stuck here, and I think you might be the answer to it all._

“Well, we’re _all_ supposed to be allowed to say whatever we want at this dinner, right?” Ginny spoke before George found the courage to do so. “That was the deal, wasn’t it?” 

“Pardon me?” Percy said. “What deal?” 

Fred slunk off to a corner of the kitchen to observe how all of this was going to go down. He was terribly amused by the whole situation, but he didn’t seem all too interested in actively trying to ruin dinner.

“Percy, Percy, Percy,” Charlie spoke to Percy for the first time since he had arrived. “Don’t you know that you got dealt the same shit hand that the rest of us did? Didn’t Mum tell you that she had to force Bill to _convince_ us all to be here?” 

Bill put his head back into his hands and groaned. He sounded like he was in pain. 

“You want to know something really interesting, Charlie?” Percy said, and George was sure he watched something in Percy snap. 

“Sure thing, _Perce,_ ” Charlie said sharply. 

“ _Fuck_ you,” Percy said. 

Luna laughed. 

“Percy!” Molly cried. 

“He said he wanted to know!” Percy said. “Would you like to know something _else_ that’s very interesting, Charlie? I was _perfectly_ aware of that. Yes. Thank you for mentioning it, though. What I was not aware of is some deal that had been made.” 

“Well, _allow me_ to tell you, then,” Charlie said. “Bill struck a deal with us to convince us to come to dinner with you.” 

“Charlie, stop it!” Molly cried. 

“No, let him finish,” Percy said sharply. “What was the deal?” 

“That we could say whatever we wanted to you if we showed up for dinner,” Ginny said before Charlie had the chance.

“That’s not – !” Bill looked up and cried out.

“That’s _exactly_ what you said, Bill!” Charlie snapped, turning back to Percy. “So long as we didn’t punch you like Ron did.”  
“It’s – I didn’t mean it like –” Bill tried again. 

“Yeah, well, Bill never says what he really means, of course,” Charlie said, and then his voice got very low. “At least, that’s what he wants you to think. You know Bill called me a shit older brother?” He scoffed. Leaning in as close as he could. “Imagine what he must really think of _you._ ” 

It all happened so quickly. It was a bit of a blur, really. But one second Percy was listening to what Charlie had to say to him, and the next he was on his feet with a fistful of Charlie’s shirt. Charlie was dragged to his feet, knocking George in the face with his shoulder. The Weasleys screamed around them, while some cheered them on. Hermione burst into tears and fled from the room, which made Ginny roll her eyes. 

Charlie tore himself from Percy’s grasp, yelling obscenities at him as he backed up from the dinner table. Molly was in tears. 

“This is a drag,” Ginny said, then she pushed back her chair and stormed out of the room. 

Neville looked from side to side nervously. “Erm – I think we should go, too, Luna,” he murmured and pulled her out of the kitchen. 

“Okay,” Percy spoke again at long last. “Well, I think that’s my cue to leave,” he said, pushing his chair back from the table. 

Oliver closed his eyes. 

“ _Percy!_ ” Molly said desperately. “No, Percy, don’t go!”

“Come on,” Percy said to his boyfriend, getting to his feet. “I don’t need to do this. It’s not worth it. Never mind.” 

George leaped to his feet. “ _What’s_ not worth it?” he asked sharply. 

“George, enough!” Molly cried.

“ _What?_ ” Percy went on. 

“What’s not worth it?” George said. “You’ve never given any one of us a real, clear answer. What are you here to ask for?” 

“I _have_ already answered that,” Percy said. “I have come to ask for your forgiveness. I would like to come around more often and –” 

“So our forgiveness and your place at this table aren’t worth listening to whatever it is we’ve got to say?” George asked. 

“Yeah!” Ron cried out in agreement with George.

“George!” Molly yelled. “Ronald!” 

“Just making sure I understand correctly,” George said. “All of that isn’t worth answering a few questions we might have for you before giving you your open invitation back?”

“Are you going to ask me questions or are you going to _berate_ me?” Percy said. “Because you know what this all sounds like to me? It sounds just like old times. You picked on each other as well, I know, but you _all_ picked on _me_ as a collective. It was me against all of you but only because you made it that way. You made yourselves a group and left me on the outside, _always._ Like you were the body and I was a tumor. _Yes,_ I cut myself out, but which one of _you_ ever gave me a reason to stay? This feels just like when we were kids _,_ and I’m done. I am done with all of that. Merlin, I am almost twenty-two years old and I’m just not going to do it anymore.” He huffed, shook his head. “Mum, Dad, thank you for having us but I think it’s time we go. We’ll see you both Saturday?” 

“P-Percy,” Molly said in a broken voice. “ _Please,_ just…” 

“You know what?” Percy said, addressing his siblings once more. “Whether you like it or not, I _am_ still your family.”

George saw red and there was an involuntary growl, like Fred had in his voice sometimes, when he said, razor-sharp and just to be mean, “Oh, are you part of the family this week?” Filling the space. “I can hardly keep up these days!” 

“That’s _enough,_ Fred!” Molly shrieked. It took her a moment to realize what she’d done, but when she did she clapped both of her hands over her mouth and refused to say anything else for a long while. 

It didn’t matter what Molly was doing, really. Everyone’s eyes were on George now; Fred’s included. George’s breath was growing quicker and quicker. He was blinking back tears. He was storming out into the yard. _This is such shit,_ he thought to himself. He just kept going, kept walking, no matter what, no matter who he could hear calling his name. 

Fred caught up to him eventually. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” George grunted. 

“No, Georgie, _really,_ ” Fred said. “Are you okay?” 

George grunted again, then started shaking his head. One second he was blinking back tears, and in the next, tears streaked his cheeks. “No one’s done that,” he managed through tears. “Used to happen all the time, but not after my ear. And then you fucking _died._ No one makes that mistake. Not when one of you’s dead. Who makes that mistake? How could she make that mistake?!”

“I don’t know,” Fred said, shaking his head, blinking back his own tears “I’m sorry. It’s bullshit. It’s such bullshit.” He took George’s head in his hands and laid it against his shoulder. “You deserve so much better, Georgie. It’s all bullshit.” 

“George!” The twins both turned and looked up to see Percy running toward them. “George, are you okay?” he said, stumbling to a halt in front of them. Oliver was following behind him, but he seemed to be keeping his distance for the time being. 

“No, I am not okay,” George snapped at him. “Go away.”

“No,” Percy said, and the twins both looked shocked. “No, you’re clearly not okay –”

“I just told you –” 

“I won’t leave you alone when you’re like this.”

George smirked. “Ah, but I’m not alone!” he cried. “Never alone, Percy, old pal!” 

Oliver hurried over when he heard George start yelling. “What’s going on? What’s the matter?”

“Back off, Ollie,” Percy hissed. 

“ _Ollie,_ ” Fred laughed, and so did George. “I could puke.” 

“Something funny?” Percy said. 

“Nothing,” George said, still laughing. “Absolutely nothing is funny. Not anymore. Never again.” 

“George,” Percy said sadly. 

George couldn’t stand the look of pity on his face so he glanced at Fred then strode up to Percy. “Wipe that look off your face. I can see Fred’s ghost.” He backed off then, allowing that to settle.

No one said anything for a while. Not even Fred. 

Oliver was the first one brave enough to speak, which seemed to be a pattern that evening. “So, at dinner when ye said…” he trailed off, not wanting to say the rest of that sentence out loud. “Fred really had told ye just then?”

“ _Oliver,_ ” Percy said.

“For the very first time,” George said laughingly. 

“George, that’s not –” Percy cut himself off, sighing. 

“That’s not what, Percy?” George said. 

“That’s not… how ghosts work.” 

Fred rolled his eyes. 

“Heard that one before,” George said. “Doesn’t change the fact it’s happening.” 

“It can’t be,” Percy said. 

“I can prove it,” George said, but Percy didn’t answer him. 

“So prove it,” Oliver said eventually.

“ _Oliver,_ ” Percy said. 

“Okay, _Ollie,_ ” Fred said tauntingly. “Are you sure you want that?”

“Fred asked if you’re sure you want that,” George told Oliver. 

“Well, I thought that might not involve talking about –” Oliver began to say. 

“May twenty-second, May twenty-eighth, and August nineteenth, Nineteen-Ninety-Four,” Fred said quickly. “ _Say it,_ George.” 

“Fred says,” George said, then cleared his throat. “May twenty-second, May twenty-eighth, and August nineteenth, Nineteen-Ninety-Four.”

Oliver turned red. “Could we talk about something else?”

Percy was quiet for a moment then, looking shocked, he cried, “August _nineteenth?_ ” 

“At four in the morning,” Fred said.

“At four in the morning,” George said. 

“In Oliver’s tent,” Fred said.

“In… Oliver’s… tent?” George said very slowly then started doing his own mental math, trying to figure out exactly when August 19, 1994, was. It dawned on him slowly, and then all at once. “You snuck out.” 

“Merlin,” Percy said. 

“Fred, you _snuck out,_ ” George said. “After Death Eaters attacked. You could’ve been _killed._ ” 

“Well,” Fred said.

“ _Fred!_ ” George said. 

“Regardless of how _shocking_ this new piece of information may be,” Percy said through gritted teeth, his face so red that it was glowing in the disappearing light of the setting sun. “George, we need to take you to a Healer or someone who can help you figure out why you’re seeing –” 

“Ugh,” George cut Percy off with a groan. “Fred, go on. Do it.” 

“Do what?” Fred said. 

“You _know_ what,” George said. 

“ _What?_ ” Percy said.

“Talking to Fred,” George grumbled. “Fred, c’mon. Do it.” 

“Oh, George,” Percy said sadly. Even sadder than before.

“You want me to hit him?” Fred said. 

“ _Yes,_ ” George said.

“Now?”

“ _Now._ ”

“I’m not so sure.”

“ _Why not?_ ”

“What is going on?” Oliver said. “I’m a little lost.”

Percy didn’t answer Oliver. He reached out his hand. “Come on, George. You need to tell Mum and Dad about this. They’ll take care of everything.” 

“They already know,” George said. “They don’t believe me, either. You’re just like Mum. Always were.” 

Percy sighed. “Okay, look, I’m sorry if I’ve been harsh tonight. I was upset after Ginny – but I shouldn’t have – I’m sorry. I’m really sorry just – just come with me, okay? I only want to help you. Please, George.” 

George looked at him for a long time. Eventually, he shook his head. “You haven’t changed, Percy,” he said. “Not really. You’re still waiting to talk instead of just _listening_ for once in your life.” He turned to Fred. “Just do it already, would you?” 

Fred frowned. “I can’t.” 

George didn’t know what to do with himself. He didn’t know what world he was living in where Fred was refusing to hit Percy but he couldn’t take it anymore. “Fuck off,” he hissed, though it wasn’t clear who it was meant for. He stormed away, putting as much distance between himself and the Burrow as possible. He marched in solitude across the wide-open field as the sun dipped below the horizon and he was left in mostly darkness. He could still see the lights of the Burrow in the distance, but he could barely make out the outlines of his own hands where he was standing. He spun around for a few moments until he realized he wasn’t the one spinning; the world was spinning around him. 

The next thing he knew, George was on the ground. He was digging his hands into the grass. There was dirt underneath his fingernails. He still felt angry. He still felt dizzy. 

“ _George!_ ” Someone cried.

George hoped it was Fred. He wanted to hug Fred. George wanted so badly for it to be Fred who had come after him. 

“ _Lumos!_ ” 

It wasn’t Fred. 

“George, please.” Percy held out his hand. “Let me help you.” 

“ _No._ ” George looked away from him. He looked down at his hands in the grass and realized that he was crying when he saw that fallen teardrops had created constellations across the backs of his hands in the dim lighting of Percy’s wand. “You’re not helping,” he croaked. “You think you are, but you’re _not!_ You’re _still not listening!_ ” 

Percy stood still for a long time, frowning at George. The world seemed to come to a standstill around them. With a heavy sigh, Percy sat beside George on the ground and set his wand down in the grass between the two of them so that it lit up both of their faces. “Okay,” he said. “I am listening.” 

George blinked. “What?”

“I am listening,” Percy said again. “Say whatever you need to say.” 

George blinked again. “Well,” he said. “I hardly know where to start.” 

Silence fell between them again for a long time. Percy must have been convinced that George wasn’t going to say anything because he spoke up after a while. “C-could I ask –”

George gave him a sharp look.

“I know, I know. I’m talking again instead of listening. But I wonder if I could ask you a question? And you can answer it. With complete honesty.”

“Bill says I’ve got to be civil.” 

“Was that part of the deal?”

“Mhm.” 

“Right… Well, you don’t need to sugarcoat it, okay? Say what you want. I was just thinking… you said you don’t know where to start, right? I don’t know… maybe we can start here.” 

George thought about this for a few long moments. “I might agree to this. _If_ you promise not to lock me up. I know you think I’ve gone totally mad – so does Mum – but I’m not as stupid as the two of you think I am. I know the difference between a hallucination and a _ghost._ ”

“It’s not a question of intelligence,” Percy said quickly – _reassuringly_. “It’s… it can be hard to tell. When you’re seeing things that aren’t really there. I don’t think you’re crazy just because you’re seeing Fred’s ghost, I just don’t _necessarily_ think that means you’re really seeing Fred’s ghost.” 

“Well, I could’ve proved it back there,” George grumbled. “Everyone else believes me, you know. Well, not Mum or Dad, but everyone else. Even Bill.” 

“Why didn’t you, then? Prove it to me back there, I mean?”

“Well, it’s not exactly up to me alone. I need Fred’s cooperation to do that, don’t I?” 

Percy looked at him for a few long moments, then nodded. “Yes, I suppose that’s a reasonable conclusion.” 

“Yeah, well, Fred’s Fred,” George sighed. “Even dead.” 

Percy looked at him through another stretch of silence. Just when George was starting to wish he would stop doing that, Percy said, “Okay. If you swear that you are in your right mind and you’re capable of making decisions for yourself, I’m not about to drag you kicking and screaming to St. Mungo’s.” 

George looked at him for a few seconds, as if he wasn’t sure he believed him, but then he nodded. “All right,” he said. “Ask your question, then. You want _complete_ honesty, you said? No sugar coating? Not even a little bit?” 

“I want you... to tell it like it is.”

“Great. Shoot.” 

“Right.” Percy drew in a deep breath. “Is there anything I can do for you to forgive me?”

“ _Right_ back to making it about you again, huh? Everything. _Every_ time.”

“No, George, I didn’t mean –” Percy sighed. “I’m sorry, I just mean – look, I mean, what you said at dinner.”

“What’re you talking about?” George said. 

“What you said at dinner,” Percy repeated, then went on, “when you said that your forgiveness was not worth hearing what you all had to say to me, I – I’m sorry I reacted so angrily. But it is. It really is. Of course, I’ll hear whatever you want to say, all of you, and more. You can ask me whatever you want. I – I don’t –” He shook his head. “My point is, if there isn’t anything I could possibly do to earn your forgiveness then I understand and you can tell me that straight to my face. My point is that if there _is_ something, then I’ll – I will do it. I will do anything. I just…” He smiled softly. “I _miss_ you. All of you. I just want to come home.” 

“Oh, Percy,” George said sadly, the same way that Percy had said his name, as all of his red hot anger melted away. 

“Just tell me what I can do, and I will do it.” 

George frowned. “Wait, there is…” he didn’t know if he could bear to say it. He shook himself. “There is something you might be able to help me with. And you’re – I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who could help me.” 

“Okay,” Percy said. It was very obvious that he was trying hard to keep his voice steady. “Okay, and how can I help?”

George swallowed hard. “I need…” he said. “I need to… to see.” He shook his head, knowing that hadn’t made any sense at all. “Sorry. What I mean to say is… Percy, I need to…” He trailed off again. He didn’t want to. He had to tighten his fists in the grass to keep his hands from shaking. “I need to see how Fred died.” 

Percy’s eyes widened considerably and he leaned away from George. “No, you don’t.” 

“Percy,” George started with a sigh.

“How could you –” Percy shook his head. “Why would you ever want that?”

“I don’t want to,” George said defensively. “B-but,” he went on in a smaller voice, “I’ve got to. I know in my soul that I’ve got to.” 

“George,” Percy said firmly. “I will listen to anything you have to say, for as long as it takes for you to say it, but for one moment I need you to listen to what I have to say, okay?” He swallowed hard. “You should not see how it happened. It was a- _awful._ ” He couldn’t contain his shudder. “It was the _worst_ thing I’ve ever seen and you should not have to –” 

“But I do have to, Percy,” George insisted. “He’s haunting me – oh, he’s right, that _is_ such a nasty word. It’s not accurate, either. That’s really not what it’s like. But he’s a ghost, and he’s here, and only I can see or hear him but he can _move things_ – I can show – _we_ can show you! H-he’ll come around. Eventually. But you – you’ve just got to believe me. Please.” 

“E-even if that were true,” Percy began cautiously. “What does that have to do with seeing how he died?” 

George sighed. “I didn’t understand that myself. Not until today. I think that a lot of things are coming together today.”

“For you, maybe,” Percy said. “I’m lost.” 

“I thought that he was relying on me to be able to move on,” George said. “You know, _move on_ – like to the next life or another plane, whatever happens to us when we die. But that’s not it. At least, that’s not _all_ of it.” 

“George, I really don’t have any clue what you’re talking about.” Percy sounded quite distressed. 

“The only way for Fred to move on is for me to move on,” George said. “And in order to do that, I have to accept that he’s died. I’ve been struggling with that. Like with the cat – all this time, he was right about those freakin’ cats. He’s going to get a really big head about it.” 

“You’re making even less sense now.” 

“I didn’t see him die. So I can’t get it through my head that he’s dead. I keep waiting for him to come back.” 

“All – all right.” Percy blinked, then nodded, then said, “I suppose that makes sense, as well, yes. But what do you expect I can do to help you with such a problem?” 

“You were with him, Percy.”

“Yes, but all that I could do is talk you through what happened. It’s not as if I can just show you my memories.”

“You can take a memory and put it in a vial with just your wand.”

“O-okay, but viewing that memory would require a type of tool, the likes of which you do not possess.” 

“Yes, I know that. I’ll handle it.” 

Percy looked at George for a while longer. “I…” he said. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” 

George frowned. “Why not?” 

“That spell requires one to sit and think, very clearly, about the memory you want to bottle. And I can’t… Like I said at dinner, I try not to even _think_ about… I’m sorry. I cannot help you, George.” 

George looked back at him for a long while, a really long while, and then he nodded to him. “Okay,” he said. “I understand,” he said, and then he got to his feet and started back toward the Burrow. 

“Wait, George!” Percy cried, scrambling to his feet. He snatched his wand up from the ground and chased after George. “Is there anything else that I can do for you? Some other way that I might be able to help.” 

“No,” George said. “That’s all I had to ask of you, Percy. But I forgive you, if that’s what you need to hear.” 

“No, George, that’s not what I meant,” Percy said quickly. “I could help you. In… some other way. I’m sure. Maybe I can help figure out what exactly is going –”

“You don’t even believe Fred’s really here,” George said. “Do you?”

“I…” Percy frowned. “I don’t know.” 

George nodded. “It’s okay. I really do understand. I… I’m sorry I asked.”

“No, you don’t need to be sorry,” Percy said quickly. 

George nodded again. “Okay,” he said. He turned away, ready to head back to the Burrow, but then turned back to face Percy once more. “Thank you,” he added. “For trying to help. And I don’t blame you for not being able to do it. There’s just nothing else that can be done.”

“So… what are you going to do now?” Percy asked. 

George shrugged. “Dunno,” he said. “But me and Fred will figure it out.” He smiled. “Together. We always do.” 

“Y-yes,” Percy agreed. “You always do. But, George –”

“Fred!” George cried suddenly when he spotted Fred approaching them. “There you are!”

“George, what’re you _doing?_ ” Fred asked. 

“Nothing,” George said. “Let’s go.”

“Did you talk to Percy?” 

“Doesn’t matter. Let’s go.” 

“It _does_ matter. Did you talk to Percy?”

“Yeah. But I’m all done now. Let’s _go._ ”

“I wanna talk to Percy.”

“You what?”

“ _I want to talk to Percy._ ” Fred frowned. “Please.” 

George matched his frown. “I’m sorry, Fred, but Percy doesn’t believe that you’re here.”

“What?” Percy said.

“Fred says he wants to talk to you,” George explained. “I’ve told him that he can’t because you don’t believe me.” 

Fred seemed willing to accept this and head back to the Burrow with George, but Percy said in a panicked voice, “Th-that’s fine. Tell me what he wants to say anyway. Please?”

George looked at Percy for a long while, then finally turned to Fred expectantly. “Okay,” he said. 

Fred looked nervous, which George thought was odd. Ever odder, Fred did not insult Percy or dig up an old memory or ask him a mean question just for the sake of being nasty. “I had forgotten all about that day in Egypt,” he said. “Bill and Charlie didn’t want Mum and Dad to leave us with them, but Percy said he’d go to the pyramids with us.” 

“He says that he forgot about the day in Egypt that you talked about at dinner,” George said. 

“We hadn’t been on any sort of vacation since Ginny was really little,” Fred said. “So, not since we were still kids. And it was our first time travelling out of the country. We felt so grown up, staying out with the older boys.”

George relayed all of this to Percy, who hung onto every word like it was breath and he was a dying man. 

“I think it’s the last time the three of us ever got along,” Fred said. “It’s the last time you joked around with the two of us before you turned so serious. So, I just wanted to say… thank you. I’m really glad I remember that now.” 

George repeated this to Percy and he got very quiet. Evidently that was all that Fred had to say. George told Percy this as well. Then he tilted his head at Percy and said, “For what it’s worth, I really do forgive you. I’ll see you around sometime, Perce.” And then without another word, Fred and George fell into step, side-by-side, and marched back to the house together. 

“What did you and Percy talk about?” Fred asked. 

“Never mind that,” George said. “I’ll tell you when we get inside. We’ve got to avoid Mum like the plague.” 

“Do you think she’s past sending you to the psych ward?” 

“Not in the least. And I don’t think Dad is past the idea, either.” 

“Okay.” Fred paused. “I’ve got an idea.” 

“Oh? What sort of idea?” 

“An idea that’ll keep you from going to the psych ward. What else? I mean, I guess you could call it more of a plan.” 

George raised his eyebrows. “Okay. Do tell.” 

“Well, I was thinking about it when you were talking to Ginny about the Burrow’s Fidelius Charm. _Our_ Fidelius Charm is still up at the shop, right?”

“Yeah.” 

“So, we could go there. All you have to do is tell Charlie not to tell anyone where we’ve gone.” 

“Yeah.” George nodded. “Yeah, wait, that’s a good idea. Let’s do that.”

“Okay, _perfect._ You just need to tell –” 

“Charlie. Let’s go.” 

When Fred and George got back to the house, they entered very cautiously. Everyone except for Bill and Molly seemed to have made themselves scarce. Molly was at the sink, washing dishes. Bill was clearing more plates and silverware from the dinner table. Bill gestured for George to go upstairs quickly and quietly then he turned and struck up a quiet conversation with Molly to distract her so that George was able to get away without being seen. 

“So?” Fred said once they were back in George’s bedroom. “What did you and Percy chat about? Did you also talk about Egypt?”

“Doesn’t matter anymore,” George said, starting to pack some clothes into a backpack. He wasn’t sure how long he was going to need to stay away from the Burrow. “He said no.”

“Said no to what?” Fred asked. “He should be giving you _anything_ you ask for.” 

George frowned at Fred for a long time, trying to figure out how to put what he needed to say into words. After a while, he said, “Fred, what I was trying to say earlier, before dinner, was just that –” 

They were both distracted when someone started yelling quite suddenly in the kitchen. They frowned at one another. 

“Shit, I can’t hear what they’re saying,” George said, frowning.

“I’ll go,” Fred said. “Be back in a bit. I’ll tell you everything they say.”

“Thanks, Fred.” 

Fred left, down the hallway and onto the top step of the staircase. He took a deep breath and crept halfway down the stairs then sat and watched the fight that was happening in the kitchen through the bars of the banister. The person who was yelling, Fred quickly found out, was Charlie. 

“I can’t believe you’d even think of doing this!” Charlie was yelling loud enough that Fred was _sure_ George would be able to make it out even behind closed doors. 

Oliver Wood was sitting at the table again, likely tired of waiting outside in the dark for Percy to come back. Unfortunately, Charlie stood right behind his chair. Oliver kept wincing as Charlie’s yelling got louder and louder. 

“Charlie, we need to be _vigilant_ about these things,” Arthur said.. “We’ve given it a day and he’s clearly getting worse. If he’s having hallucinations, on top of these magical outbursts, then who knows what could be next. We just want to make sure he’s okay. We want to do what’s best for George.”

“Make sure he’s okay by locking him up?!” Charlie cried. 

Fred was suddenly much more alert. 

“We’re not locking him up,” Bill said evenly. “We want to bring him to St. Mungo’s and we want him to have a conversation with a Healer. Maybe spend a night or two. It’s not as big a deal as you’re making it out to be.” 

“Don’t let me get started on _you,_ Bill,” Charlie snapped. “George _and Fred_ both proved their situation to you last night. Nice nose, by the way.” 

Oliver cleared his throat. “D-does anyone know where Percy might have gone?” 

No one answered. No one knew. 

“I’ll make tea,” Molly said. 

“I’m going to get George,” Arthur said. 

“No!” Charlie shrieked. (Oliver jumped.) “No, you can’t!” 

Fred got to his feet, ready to bolt upstairs and tell George to Apparate out of there while he still could. They could meet up back at the apartment above the shop. Everything was going to be fine. It had to be. 

The kitchen door burst open and Percy strode in. He walked right up to Molly and said something to her very softly so that no one else could hear him. 

Molly looked at him questioningly for a few moments but eventually nodded. Wordlessly, she rifled through drawers until she found what she was looking for. She pushed it into Percy’s hand. Fred couldn’t see what it was. Percy thanked her softly and then disappeared into the den. Oliver chased after him.

“What d’you suppose that’s about?” Bill asked.  
“I – I don’t know,” Molly said anxiously. 

“Unimportant at the moment,” Arthur said. “I’m getting George now.” 

“Okay, let’s just slow down,” Bill said. “We need to talk to him first and very calmly explain what’s going on, and _then_ we will take him to talk with a professional. But let’s let him breathe for a minute. Let’s wait until Percy and Oliver have gone home.” 

Charlie stamped his foot, drawing everyone’s attention. “No! You’ll talk to him about no such thing. I’m getting Ginny – and Ron. We’ll – we’ll –”

Bill huffed. “You’ll _what,_ Charlie?” 

Charlie paused in the doorway. “Whatever we’ve got to do, I guess,” he said, then bolted out of the room calling, “Ginny! Ron! Get down here now!”

Moments later, Percy was back. He was gripping his wand in one hand, and something that Fred still couldn’t see in the other. He dashed for the stairs, ignoring his family when they asked where he was going. He tucked his wand back into a pocket on the way up the stairs. 

Fred had to press himself against the wall to avoid having Percy run into him. As soon as Percy had passed him by, Fred bounded up the steps after him. He chased him all the way back to George’s bedroom door. 

Percy knocked on the door, and a few seconds later it swung open. George appeared in the doorway looking horribly confused. He frowned at Percy before looking out into the hallway. He laid eyes on Fred and his frown only deepened. “Sorry,” George said. “But… what’s going on exactly?”

Percy held out the thing that Fred hadn’t been able to see before. Fred couldn’t explain it, but when he laid eyes on the thing, he swore it filled him with a sense of dread – the kind that starts in the pit of your stomach and spreads through you like an illness. Just from looking at it. 

It was a vial. Held inside of it was a wispy blue line.

“Percy,” George said, his voice shaking. “Y-you said you couldn’t – I told you I understood. You didn’t have to –”

“Just –” Percy cut him off. “Just take it. Please.” He shoved it into George’s hands and closed them around the little vial. Once he was sure that George was holding it, and that he wasn’t going to drop it, Percy looked into his face. He laid a hand on George’s neck. “I… I am so sorry,” he said. “For _everything._ Even the stuff that’s not ‘cause of me.” 

Percy and George stayed that way and looked at each other for another few moments that felt like they stretched on for far longer than they should have. Then Percy went downstairs, thanked his parents for having him, and told Oliver that it was time to go home. 

George leaned against the doorjamb, heaving a sigh. “Oh, Freddie. What a night.”


	9. take my joints (take them for points)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill and Charlie are concerned older brothers. Fred and George finally get the chance to talk about some things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: somewhat excessive alcohol, non-explicit sexual themes (Fred tells a very vague story), embarrassment/walking in on someone naked, coming out, discussions of mental health and mental hospitals

Moments after the front door had closed behind Percy and Oliver, a fight broke out in the kitchen between Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Ron, and Ginny. Molly, Arthur, and Bill all argued that George needed to speak with a Healer at St. Mungo’s while Charlie, Ron, and Ginny fought back, accusing them of trying to lock George up. 

“We need to get out of here,” Fred said urgently. “You don’t need to pack any more clothes. You’ve got clothes there still, haven’t you?” 

“Y-yeah,” George said shakily. He was staring into the contents of the vial Percy had given him before leaving. “I need to do something first.” 

“No, George, you don’t have time!”

“It’s important.” 

“George –”

“ _ Fred!  _ I swear I’ll explain everything later, okay? But right now I need you to just trust me.”

Fred looked at him for a few moments but finally nodded. “Okay. What do you need me to do?” 

“Just go be a lookout. If you think they’re really right about to drag me off to the ward, come and get me. I just need, like, ten minutes.” 

“Okay. Ten minutes.” 

They split up, Fred returning to his perch on the staircase and George booking it up to Ron’s room and bursting in. As he had expected, he found Harry and Hermione seated at the foot of Ron’s bed speaking in whispered voices. 

“George!” Hermione cried, leaping to her feet. “H-how are you?” 

“I need to talk to Harry alone,” George said. “Please.”

Hermione frowned. “Er, George, maybe you should go downstairs and talk to your moth–”

George huffed. “I was asking _ Harry. _ ” 

Harry blinked. “Oh, er,” he said. “Yeah, okay.” 

“Harry,” Hermione said. 

“Get out, Hermione,” Harry said and she looked affronted but she didn’t bother arguing any further either and promptly stormed out of the room. “Um. What can I do for you, George?” Harry asked in his kindest voice once she had gone. 

George was pretty sure that this was what pity looked like on Harry, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at present. “Harry,” he said, and his voice came out sounding much more tired than he had intended. “I have a… I have a question for you, but it’s sort of an odd one.” 

Harry looked like he didn’t entirely understand, but he nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Er. That’s fine. Ask away.” 

George frowned. “I don’t even know if…” he sighed. “It’s just, um… you know the Pensieve that Dumbledore had?”

“I do.”

“Do you… I mean, would you happen to have…  _ access  _ to that?” 

“Um. Yes. He left it to me, actually.”

“Ah.” George chuckled, Fred’s voice ringing in his ears. “Classic.” 

“Yeah, he left a second Will and Testament. A real one. I mean, the one Scrimgeour showed up to Bill’s wedding with only had three things on it, which we thought was sort of weird even at the time.”

“Right.”

“Anyway, why do you ask?” 

“Oh, well –” George hesitated. He shook himself, determined to do this. “Would I be able to… er… use it? Just once.” 

Harry blinked like this hadn’t been quite what he was expecting out of this conversation. Indeed, this surely hadn't been what Harry was expecting at all. All things considered, he was taking it in stride. In the end, he shrugged his shoulders and said, “Yeah, I don’t see why not.” He didn’t even ask any questions about it.

George grinned. “Really? Oh, you don’t know how much this means. Thank you, Harry. Thank you so much.” 

“Yeah, of course,” Harry said. “I’ll have to write McGonagall in the morning and ask when you’d be able to come. It’s still in her office. I’ll let you know when she writes me back.”

“Brilliant,” George said. “Thank you again, Harry. Thank you so much. And, er, one more thing… could you possibly not mention this to anyone else?”

Harry assured him that it was no trouble at all and that no one would hear of this from him, so George was off. Back in his bedroom, he snatched the backpack he’d stuffed with clothes and then went out into the hall. “ _ Fred, _ ” he hissed toward the stairwell and his brother appeared in the hallway a few moments later. “I think I’m ready to go. Oh! I never talked to Charlie, though.” 

“It’s fine,” Fred said. “As long as he doesn’t want them to bring you to Mungo’s, I don’t think he’ll tell them where you’re at. And he’s standing his ground on that one.”

“Right. Plus, I don’t wanna go down there for shit. So, let’s go.” 

“Okay,” Fred said, nodding. “Do you think we could manage Side-Along?”

“Only one way to find out,” George said, holding out his hand and taking Fred’s hand in a firm grasp. “Ready, Freddie?”

Fred smiled. “As I’ll ever be.” 

_ CRACK! _

***

They could  _ not  _ manage Side-Along Apparition, Fred concluded a moment later when he found himself standing in the hallway at the Burrow alone. Surely, George was realizing the same thing wherever he had landed in Diagon Alley. 

“George?!” Bill’s voice rang out from the kitchen, traveling up into the hallway. He and Charlie came running into the hallway a few seconds later. “Are you okay up here? George?!” He burst into George’s bedroom, crying out his name for the third time. 

Fred was trying to figure out how to get past Charlie, who was standing in the middle of the hallway when Ron and Ginny appeared at the top of the stairs and made his job even harder. As if to mock him, Bill reappeared in the hallway, thereby crowding it even more, desperately asking, “ _ Where is George? _ ”

“Bill, I think he’s  _ Apparated, _ ” Charlie said, and Fred didn’t miss the tiny smirk that tugged at his mouth. 

Neither did Bill, apparently, because he grabbed Charlie by the collar of his shirt and held a fist above his head. “Tell me where he’s gone,” he growled.

“Oh-ho!” Charlie guffawed. “There’s the wolf in him, folks!” 

Fred barely had time to get out of the way when Bill whirled Charlie around and slammed him up against the wall. “Tell me now or I swear I’ll –” 

“Bill!” Ginny cried.

“You’ll  _ what? _ ” Charlie snapped.

Bill didn’t answer right away. “Tell me where he is, Charlie,” he said in a low voice.    
“I don’t  _ know, _ ” Charlie said. 

“Bill, stop it,” Ron said. 

“It’s you,” Bill said. “I know it’s you.” 

“You don’t know shit.” 

“I do, ‘cause you’re  _ fucking readable. _ Tell me where he is.” 

“I already said it’s not me.” 

“I – don’t –  _ believe  _ – you.” 

“Too –  _ fucking  _ – bad.” Charlie shoved Bill off of him. 

“Charlie,” Bill said.

“Bill,” Charlie said. 

“Do you remember the conversation we had?”

“You’re gonna have to be a  _ tad  _ more specific.” 

“The conversation we had at the end of May.” 

This made Charlie stop. His eye twitched. “I do,” he said eventually. 

“And?” Bill said.

“And  _ what? _ ” Charlie said. “That was two months ago. A lot can change in two months.” 

“Yes, a lot  _ can  _ change in two months,” Bill said. 

Charlie shook his head. “You haven’t been here.” 

“He’s unstable, Charlie,” Bill said. “He’s not doing well. You have to see that.” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Fred huffed. He grabbed Bill’s shoulder, spun him around, and then he punched him again. 

“F-Fred!” Bill cried after him. He didn’t fall to the floor this time, but it was still quite easy for Fred to get away, being invisible and all. 

Fred had to push past Ron to get through to the staircase and he seemed pretty freaked out by this, but he got out. He ran as fast as his legs would take him down the staircase. He could hear Ginny laughing loudly behind him, as well as Charlie yelling, “Well done, Fred! Well done!” but he didn’t dare look back. Fred sprinted past his parents, who were emerging from the sitting room, both of them with puffy red eyes and wet cheeks. He threw the door open, not caring if they saw. He didn’t care about anything at all. 

Fred took flight, laughing at the sky as he soared about the rooftop of the Burrow.  _ Who knew being dead could make you feel so alive? _

***

While George waited for Fred to arrive, he busied himself with lighting the place up and wiping down some of the dustier surfaces. He took several minutes to stand in the kitchen and breathe deeply. He drank a glass of water and tried to process all that happened to him in the past several hours, but it all became too much for him. Instead, he pulled the vial that Percy had given him from his pocket and stared at it for a long time, becoming entranced by the wriggling strand of iridescent blue. Eventually, that too became too much for George to think about as his mind wandered to what that wispy little memory had in store for him. He opened the first drawer that he could reach and stuck the vial inside of it, slammed the drawer shut, then snuck down to the shop to see if Fred had arrived yet. He thought it odd that it was taking him so long. He was just beginning to worry about what might have happened when Fred appeared in the same place George had done nearly an hour earlier. 

Fred burst into the shop, laughing. “Aha! I’ve figured it out! I’ve figured it out!” 

“Figured what out?” George asked, although he couldn’t help but join in Fred’s laughter for it was as infectious as it had always been, and _that_ made George want to cry but 

“Apparition!” Fred exclaimed. “Well – er –  _ Ghost  _ Apparition, as it were.” 

George laughed. “Indeed,” he said. “Well, that’s excellent. Ought to make some things a bit easier. C’mon, it’s humid down here. I have the air conditioner running upstairs.” Air conditioners had to be George’s all-time favorite Muggle invention.

Fred grinned and ran past George up the stairs. “Ah, home sweet home!” he cried as he crossed the threshold of the twins’ flat. 

(George’s flat.)

George closed the door behind himself when he caught up to him. “What on earth took you so long?”

“I tried flying here but got lost,” Fred huffed. He flopped down onto the sofa in their sitting room. “So I went back to the Burrow and tried flying a little lower, but it was taking  _ forever.  _ I got to thinking about other ghosts and wondered if they could just appear places or not. I couldn’t remember. But I figured I might as well try it. Took a couple of times to get it right, but then it worked!”

George hummed. “Ghost powers.” 

Fred grinned. “Ghost powers.” 

“Did anything interesting happen after I left?”

“Well,” Fred said. “Bill figured out that Charlie must be our Secret Keeper pretty much right away. It’s a shame we ever told him that we were putting the Charm up in the first place. But anyway, Charlie wouldn’t even admit to it. They got into a spat about it and Bill had Charlie pinned up against the wall at one point and then…” He frowned. “And then – and I don’t really understand this bit – but then Bill asked Charlie if he remembered having a conversation at the end of May and Charlie got really quiet.”

George was attempting to multi-task taking in all that Fred had to say and making himself some tea. “Okay,” he said, and he also frowned. “That’s… yeah, that’s kinda weird.” 

“And then Bill said you were  _ unstable, _ ” Fred seethed. 

George barked a laugh. “‘Course. He would.” He raised his eyebrows at Fred, who looked angry enough to snap. “What’s your problem? C’mon, that’s kind of funny, right? Classic Bill…?” 

Fred stared back at George for a long time with a stony expression. Then, in a similar tone to the one Ron had used at lunch on Wednesday afternoon, he said, “I punched him in the nose again.” 

George stared at him, his mouthing hanging open. Fred wasn’t sure what he was going to do next, but he need not have worried. Finally breaking the silence that hung between them, George threw his head back and burst into a hysterical fit of laughter. “Twice in as many days! Brilliant!” 

George made two cups of tea instinctively but he shrugged it off quickly and simply decided that he would drink both of them. 

“Okay, as much fun as it is to laugh about our family,” Fred said as George began sipping his first cup of tea. “I have to ask. What’s the thing Percy gave you? Is it what I think it is?”

George sighed, settling into a chair opposite the sofa where Fred was sprawled out. “Well,” he said, setting his tea down on the coffee table that stood between them, “to understand that, I have to finish telling you what I was trying to say before Dad interrupted.” 

Fred frowned. “Dad interrupted –?” he said. “Oh, right, when Percy arrived. Yeah, I totally forgot about that. What were you saying? I forgot.” 

George huffed at his brother. “What I was saying – well, what I was  _ trying  _ to say – was that… I  _ think  _ that… you were right.”

“I’m sure I was but you’re gonna have to give me more details,” Fred said. “I’m usually right, so –” 

George threw a pillow at him. “I mean you were right about the nightmares,” he said. “You were right about them telling me what to do, and you were right about what I need to do to… to fix this. To start fixing this, anyway.”

George worried that was a little too cryptic, but Fred seemed to understand what George meant perfectly because he frowned even deeper and very softly said, “Yeah?” 

George nodded. “Yeah.”

“Wow. So… it  _ is _ … what I think it is.”

“Yeah.” George went to the kitchen and retrieved it. He set it down on the coffee table and then drank more of his tea. “I talked to Harry before I left. That’s what I needed to do. You were right about him, too – Dumbledore left the Pensive to him. He says that I can use it, but it’s still in the Headmaster’s office at Hogwarts. He’s writing McGonagall and he’ll let me know when she’s free to let me in. And then… we’ll go.”

“And did he ask any questions?” 

George shook his head. “No. And I don’t think Ron told him anything, either. For once. Him and Hermione both seem pretty oblivious to…” he gestured to Fred himself. “...this.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But there it is.”

“George, how – I mean  _ when  _ did you – and you’re really going to –” Fred cut himself off, shaking his head. “You were so adamant that you  _ would not _ see how I –” 

“I know,” George sighed. “It’s… complicated.”

Fred raised his eyebrows expectantly. 

“I don’t know when I realized exactly…” George took a deep breath. “Um, like I was saying earlier, I was with Umbridge –”

“Right. ‘Face your fears’.  _ Oh! _ ”

“Right. And then… after all of it, after the Death Eaters and Umbridge and the Cup, I was here. With… I thought it was  _ you  _ at first. I mean, how could I not, I guess? We were in here and you were…” George shook his head. “But it wasn’t you. It never is. And he started saying how stupid I’ve been…” He hadn’t realized that he was avoiding looking at Fred until he met his eye again. “How I’ve been ignoring what’s in front of me. And I think… I think he’s right. I think  _ you  _ were right.” 

“I was?”

“Yeah. I’ve got to see it,” George said, then neither of them said anything for a long time. Eventually, George spoke again. “I’d like to go to bed now,” he said. “We will talk about this some more tomorrow. I’m sure that we will talk about this  _ at length.  _ And whatever we see in there…” He trailed off, staring into the tiny vial without a word for a long while. Eventually, he shook himself and continued, “I’m sure we’ll have to talk about that, too,” he said in a tired voice. “But I have been through an ordeal tonight. I would like a few hours of sleep before we discuss the matter of me finally having to face my fears.” 

Fred nodded. “Yeah, understandable,” he said. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here.”

***

Fred sat on the stairs while George slept and stared at the shop. He and George had worked so very hard to open the shop – they had  _ fought  _ tooth and nail for their dream – and now Fred was never going to see the fruits of their labor.  George might, someday, if he ever opened it up again; that was a comforting thought, Fred had to admit. All the same, he looked at the shop for hours and he mourned what could have been. 

***

George slept until well past noon the next day and, though frustrated by this, Fred couldn’t find it in himself to be angry with him. Of course, he wasn’t angry with him. Being dead really sucked but George was truly having a rough time of it. The two had bickered about it every so often, but now… 

Sometimes it felt like all that either of them truly had left in the world was each other, which was upsetting for both of them. But it dawned on Fred that being a ghost who only has a living person was one thing, but being alive and only having a  _ ghost  _ left… Well, that was quite another thing, indeed.

So, Fred realized that George must be very tired. 

So, Fred sat on the stairs, stared at the shop, and waited. That was why he saw Charlie coming. He saw Charlie appear a few yards from the building. He saw Charlie approach the building and he saw the grimace that Charlie wore. He saw Charlie pacing back and forth and wringing his hands. He saw Bill materialize at Charlie’s side.

“No!” Fred gasped. “GEORGE!” he bellowed, scrambling up the steps as Charlie and Bill started toward the shop. “IT’S TIME TO GET UP NOW!” Fred stormed into the apartment, making as much noise as he could. He knocked things over on the way to George’s bedroom. 

“GEORGE, GET UP NOW!” Fred said, bursting into the bedroom. “ _ Charlie  _ is  _ here! _ ” he shouted when George woke with a start. 

“Wh-what –” George said groggily, rubbing his eyes. “That’s fine. Charlie’s –” He paused to yawn. “–  _ fine. _ ” 

“He’s brought Bill with him, though!” Fred cried. 

“ _ What  _ –” George looked distraught and like he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to get out of this situation. 

“George?” Charlie called once he was inside the apartment. 

Of course, there really wasn’t very much to be done now that Charlie was there. He was already sticking his head into the room, grinning. “George,” he said. “There you are.”

“Ch-Charlie?” George pulled his blankets up to his chin. 

“What’s the matter?” Charlie asked gently, leaning against the doorjamb. He was keeping his distance.

“No!” Fred cried before George could answer, placing himself between the two of them. “NO!” 

“Wh-what’re you doing here?” George asked. 

“You can’t do this!” Fred yelled. “He can’t do this! I’ll punch him, too! George, tell him I’ll punch him if he tries taking you in!” 

“F-Fred says he’ll punch you,” George said, his voice shaking more and more. “If… if…”

“I’m not here to bring you to the hospital,” Charlie said. “I promised you.” 

“You did,” George said, nodding. “You promised. And Fred… Fred said that you brought Bill with you.” 

Charlie frowned. “Yes, well, that I did. He’s in the kitchen.” 

“Charlie!” George cried.

“See?!” Fred said. 

“We just want to talk to you,” Charlie said quickly. “No parents, no Percy. You, me, and Bill – and Fred. Okay?” 

George shifted uneasily. “Talk about what?”

Charlie spoke slowly,  _ cautiously.  _ Apparently, he wanted to choose his words very carefully. “We just want to talk to you about how you’ve been feeling lately, George. Nothing bad, I promise.” 

"Usually when you have to promise that something isn't bad, it is," George said. “I don’t like the sound of this at all.”

“I don’t, either,” Fred said. “Want me to go punch Bill instead? Third time’s a charm, eh?”

“First two times were just fine, I think,” George snorted.

“Hm?” Charlie said. 

“Talking to Fred,” George said. “Sorry. I just… we keep talking about it and talking about it. We’re going in circles and I can’t do it anymore, Charlie.”

“But  _ we  _ haven’t talked about it.”

“What? We’ve talked.”

“Not about this.”

“About  _ Fred  _ –” George gestured to Fred, who had finally stood aside so that George could speak with Charlie. “Yes. We have.”

“Me and Bill don’t wanna talk about Fred. We wanna talk about you.”

“Why me?”

“Like I said, we want to talk about how you’ve been feeling lately.”

“But why?”

Charlie paused to think carefully about his words again. “Bill just wants to be absolutely sure that you are… well.”

George scoffed. “I’m perfectly well.” 

Charlie paused again and made a face like he was unsure of how accurate that statement was. “I know that you don’t need a hospital, George,” he settled on saying. “And I think Bill would think the same if he just had a chance to talk to you.”

“Why do I have to prove myself to him, though?” 

Charlie didn’t know how to answer this.

“You said that Fred can come, too, right?”

“Of course.”

George pulled his knees into his chest. “I still dunno, Charlie,” he said. 

Fred drummed his fingers on the footboard of George’s bed. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea,” he suggested gently. “After all, it’s only Bill. He’ll listen, at least.” 

George hummed but took longer to think on it. 

“George,” Charlie said, this time using his most careful voice of all. When he spoke again, he whispered so quietly that George had to lean in to hear what he was saying. “ _ George, Bill really wouldn’t want me telling you this, but Mum and Dad’ve agreed to  _ –”

“Okay, that’s enough, Charlie!” Bill barked, abruptly stepping into the room. “Act like an adult. Really.” He huffed, then turned his attention to George and smiled warmly. “Anyway, there’s no need to be secretive. Mum and Dad have agreed that if we have a chat, and I think you’re well, then they will drop it. No Healers.” 

George blinked. “Right,” he said. “But I’ve got to prove it to  _ you. _ If you don’t think that I’m okay, then…” 

Bill’s smile didn’t falter. “It was Charlie’s suggestion.”

George scoffed as Charlie’s betrayal welled up in his eyes and fell down his cheek in teardrops. 

“I knew it!” Fred cried. “I knew he must be in on it!”

“George, just hold on a minute,” Charlie said. 

“You!” George cried.

“George –” 

“You promised me!” 

“George, you are completely in your right mind. You are fine. You can still take care of yourself. You don’t need a hospital.” Charlie knelt down on the floor and laid his arms down on George’s bed, the palms of his hands up. 

George slowly, hesitantly, laid his hands down on top of Charlie’s.

Charlie squeezed his hands. “You do not need a hospital. You are perfectly in your right mind. Now our brother, Bill, is a very reasonable man. Would you agree with me there?”

“Sometimes,” Fred grumbled. 

“Y-yes,” George said. 

Fred rolled his eyes. 

“Excellent.” Charlie smiled at him. “And I’m damn sure that any half-reasonable person who had a conversation with you would agree that you’re not in need of any sorta medical attention. So, I…” he paused. He didn’t know what to say anymore. “George, if you would be willing, I really think this is in your best interest. I’ll be there, and Fred can come, too. Just talk with Bill.” 

George was still unsure. 

“Then you can come home,” Charlie said, still smiling. 

“Wait, what?!” Fred said.

“Hold on…” George frowned. “I dunno about coming home just yet. Last night was a lot.” 

“I know,” Charlie said. “But you should be around people who care about you right now.” 

“I’ve got Fred!” George snapped. “That’s all I need – all I’ve ever needed!”

“Well, y-yes, but…” Charlie sighed. “I have something I need to talk to you about, as well. Something you need to hear, and I haven’t got a whole lot of time to tell you. We should go to the usual spot, I think.” 

George frowned. “I don’t wanna see Mum, though. Not keen on Dad, either.”

“Harry says he’s got something for you,” Bill cut in. “A letter, I think, but he wouldn’t tell me more than that. He wouldn’t let me bring it to you, either. But he said he was pretty sure it was important.” 

“Well, shit,” Fred said. 

George looked at him.

“You’ve gotta go back, then,” Fred said. “We need to know what that letter says.” 

George nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. We can talk.” He sighed, then let go of Charlie’s hands and got out of bed. “Mind giving me a minute to get dressed?”

Charlie and Bill looked at each other for a second, and then back at George. 

“Yeah, of course,” Bill said.

“I’ll make tea,” Charlie said. 

As soon as they were gone, Fred began pacing. “So, what’re you thinking?” he asked. “What’re you gonna do? What exactly are you planning to tell him?”

“That I’m fine,” George said. 

“But you’re not.” 

“Fred.” 

“That’s the whole reason I’m here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, Fred.” 

“You’re not fine.”

“I know that.”

“Sow how’re you gonna convince him?”

“Same way I convinced Charlie.”

“Okay. How’d you do that?”

“Absolutely no idea.”

“Oh, so this should go very smoothly, then.”

“The smoothest.” George remembered that he was supposed to be getting dressed, so he did that. “How hard can it really be? Charlie’s already convinced, and Bill doesn’t even live with us. This'll be a breeze.” 

Fred shrugged. “I suppose.”

George finished dressing then they headed out to the kitchen together. There, Charlie was setting three cups of tea down on Fred and George’s tiny kitchen table, which would just barely be able to seat four people semi-comfortably. “Hiya, George,” Charlie said. “And Fred – er – I assume. I figured Fred wouldn’t need a cup.” 

“Yeah,” George said, seating himself at the square table across from Bill. 

Charlie took a seat and Fred made a show of sitting across from him so that Charlie and Bill would both notice. 

“Yes, hello, Fred,” Bill said, nodding to the place where he sat. “George, thank you for talking with me.” 

“ _ Again, _ ” George said. 

Bill’s gentle smile tightened, but he nodded to him. “Again,” he agreed. “Tell me how you’ve been doing lately, George.”

“Define ‘lately’,” George said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Do you mean the past  _ week? _ Past  _ two weeks? _ ”

“No, I was thinking the past month,” Bill said. 

George blinked. “Oh,” he said, “fine. As well as can be expected.”

Bill nodded. “How have you been feeling?”

George shrugged. “It’s not like I’m not sad some days, Bill. But I’m getting on.”

Bill nodded again. “When do you think you’ll go back to work?”

George glared. “Is this a conversation or an interrogation?” 

“Only a question.”

“Well, I don’t know. Someday. Isn’t that enough?”

“So you  _ do  _ want to go back to work someday?”

George shifted uncomfortably because he could see Fred out of the corner of his eye, and he looked incredibly expectant. Actually, he looked to be on the edge of his seat. 

“I mean, yeah,” George said cautiously. “No matter what I end up doing with the shop, I’ll do some job. Some day.” 

No one expected for Bill to accept this answer, but he did. He still had plenty more questions at the ready, though. “Mum says you’ve been skipping meals – is that true?” and “Dad seems to think that you’ve been sleeping an excessive amount. Would you agree?”

“I eat when I’m hungry and sleep when I’m tired,” George said, shrugging. “What’ve  _ you  _ been doing, Bill?”

Charlie laughed. Fred didn’t.

Bill glared at him. “Anyway,” he said, turning back to George. “What about these nightmares you’re having?”

George frowned deeply. “Who told you about those?”

Bill looked at George for a long time. He had the same look on his face that Charlie had worn when he came into George’s room like he was taking his time to choose his next words very carefully. (It made George almost wish Fred would punch him in the face again.) “You told me about your nightmares, George,” Bill said, ever so carefully, at long last. 

George frowned. “N-no,” he said, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t.”

Bill and Charlie shared a look. 

“Stop that!” George said. 

“George, calm down,” Charlie said softly. 

“Wh-what are you –” George looked back and forth between his two elder brothers, feeling very panicked. 

“Remember when we talked, George?” Bill said. “You mentioned it the other day. We talked near the end of May.” 

“You talked to  _ Charlie  _ at the end of May and you brought it up to him after I Disapparated last night. Fred told me about it. But I don’t remember any talk that  _ we  _ had. Who told you about my nightmares? ‘Cause  _ I didn’t. _ ” 

“George, it’s okay,” Fred said gently, but at present, George didn’t see how anything could ever be okay again. 

“Remember when you told me that the last time we talked we wound up drinking too much?” Bill said. “You came to spend a few nights at Shell Cottage. You told me that weekend.” 

“Oh,” George said, his shoulders sagging. “Right… yeah…” 

Bill just looked at George for a long while without saying anything. “You know, Charlie and I were talking last night,” he said eventually. “Well, fighting, more like. But he told me something that I found very interesting.” He paused and when neither George nor Charlie said anything, he went on. “Charlie said that you told him Fred cannot move on from this place until  _ you  _ have moved on. Does that all sound right?”

George nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said in a cautious tone. “Why?”

Bill shrugged. “Just seems like a tall order, that’s all. I just mean, are you sure that the only way for Fred to  _ move on,  _ in a spiritual sense, is for you to get over him dying? How can you be expected to do that in so little time?”

Fred sighed loudly and spoke for the first time since he had sat down at the table. “Yeah, Bill  _ is  _ a perfectly reasonable guy,” he said. “Can you tell him I’m sorry I punched him a second time?”

“Not right now, Fred,” George said. 

“What’s Fred got to say?” Bill asked.

George sighed. “He says he’s sorry for punching you again.” 

Bill chuckled. “It’s all right,” he said. “I think I deserved it that time.” 

“You did,” Charlie grumbled. 

Bill rolled his eyes. “Anyway, back to what I was saying –” 

“Remember when the cats we had?” George cut him off. 

Fred grinned. “Oh, Merlin, I was right about the  _ cats. _ ”

George sighed again. “Yes, you were right about the cats, Fred.” 

Bill frowned, brow furrowed. “Max and Pepper?” 

“Yeah,” George said, nodding. “Fred and I found Max when he got really bad, and we sat up with him all night until he’d died. Pepper died while we were at school.” 

“Okay,” Bill said, still frowning. “I don’t get it.”

“To be honest, I don’t, either,” Charlie said. 

“When Max died, I was a wreck,” George said. “I cried about it every day for a little while, but then I was able to move on. Still made me sad sometimes, but I got past it, you know? But Pepper died and I was fine right away. Didn't cry at all, actually. Only thing was, I kept forgetting that he’d died every time we came home for a school holiday. I felt guilty about it at the time, actually. I thought it meant that I secretly loved Max more than Pepper but it was never that. It was just that I…” He swallowed hard and steeled himself to say it. “I didn’t see Pepper die.” 

It took Charlie a little longer to get there, but it dawned on Bill as soon as George said it. “Oh, George,” he said sadly. “I’m so sorry.” 

“George,” Charlie said. “I’m really sorry. I thought you were getting better. I thought you didn’t –”

“I am getting better,” George defended. “I am getting there. I just need  _ time. _ ” 

“Of course, you do,” Bill said. “That’s perfectly all right. We just want to have a plan to make sure that you’re okay  _ during  _ that time.”

“Okay,” George said, then he and Bill stared at each other for a while. “So, what? We’ve got to sit here and make a self-care schedule for me, or I have to go to a ward?” 

“No, George,” Charlie said, but it sure felt like he was talking to Bill. “‘Cause you get some time to decide what you wanna do next, right? So, come home for the weekend. Go for that walk with me. Come to Ginny’s birthday party on Sunday.”

George and Fred shared a looked. George couldn’t miss Ginny’s birthday party. It was her seventeenth birthday, after all – her coming of age. 

“And at the end of the weekend,” Bill said, “you and I can sit down and talk about your options.”

“My  _ options? _ ” George said. 

“I just mean, we’ll talk about where you would like to go from here. How does a three-month plan sound?” 

George looked at Fred, frowning. Fred just shrugged. George looked back at Bill. “Fine. But I’m taking a shower here before we go back home.” 

“Okay, we’ll wait here,” Bill said. 

George groaned. “Whatever. Fred, come with me for a second.” He pushed his chair back and walked out of the room. Fred followed closely behind him. 

“I’m not gonna come into the bathroom while you shower,” Fred told him. 

“I know,” George hissed. “Just c’mon. For a second.” 

Unfortunately, their flat didn’t have a terribly large bathroom. They both supposed that wouldn’t matter very much anymore, though. Fred had his back pressed against the bathroom door while George had his back pressed against the frosted glass shower door and they stood a couple feet apart from each other.

“Bill just wants to have another talk with you at the end of the weekend so that he can get you alone,” Fred told him. “Without Charlie, I mean. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, duh,” George said. “But I think I’ll be able to get out of it. I need to go back to the Burrow. I need to get that letter from Harry.”

“Right,” Fred sighed. “And you can’t miss Ginny’s birthday party.” 

“Right. Okay, I’m gonna shower now. Be out in ten minutes, and we’ll go from there.”

Fred nodded. “See you then,” he said and left the room. 

***

Despite how much they want to get that letter from Harry, Fred and George still booked it straight to Ginny’s bedroom when they got home to say hi to her first. The latter twin burst into the room, calling out, “Oh, Ginny, I’m  _ home! _ ” George yelled in a sing-song tone. “Did you miss m–  _ AAAHH! _ ” 

“GEORGE!” Ginny screeched. 

George had one hand clamped over each eye. His mouth was hanging open as he was in shock over what had occurred in the past several seconds. Fred, who stood just outside of Ginny’s doorway, had frozen in place when George stepped into the room and screamed like someone was murdered. After a stretch of silence, Fred finally asked, “Should I… should I not come in?” 

George only shook his head in response, hands still covering his eyes. 

“Is someone  _ dead? _ ” Fred asked. 

“ _ George,  _ you can look now,” Ginny huffed. 

“I’ve seen enough!” George cried. 

“Oh, stop being dramatic,” Ginny said. 

“What happened!” Fred demanded. 

“ _ Ginny didn’t have a shirt on, _ ” George said mournfully.

“No!” Fred gasped. 

“Well, when you barge into my room unannounced – !” Ginny said, getting up from the bed and stomping loudly across the room. She was opening the window when George finally dared to open his eyes. 

“Hi, George,” Luna said brightly. “Hi, Fred.” 

“Right,” Fred said. “Nargles.”

George hummed. “Nargles,” he said. “Hi, Luna. Where’s Neville?” 

“With Harry and Ron,” Ginny said, collapsing back onto her bed. 

“And Hermione?” Fred said.

“What about Hermione?” George asked.

“She left last night,” Ginny said. “She’s really pissed at all of us.” She shrugged. “How’re you doing? Ron and Charlie told me what Mum did.”

“I’m fine,” George said, nodding. “I need to talk to Harry, actually.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Complicated. Do you know where he is?” 

“The three of them are in Ron’s room.” 

“Cool, thanks. See you at dinner?”

“If I show up.” 

George went up to Ron’s room, poking his head in and asking if he could speak to Harry. Harry, already aware of what he was there for, snatched a piece of parchment up from his bag and brought it with him. In the hallway, Harry told him that the response had arrived that morning. He told him that McGonagall agreed to correspond with George himself from there on out and then he said George was welcome to the Pensieve any time he liked. George thanked Harry profusely then hurried back to Fred in the room they once shared. 

“What’s it say?” Fred asked as soon as George had entered the room. 

“Calm down,” George huffed. “Haven’t read it yet. Give me a minute.”

“ _ George. _ ”

“Just hold on.” He dropped the letter on his desk and went to the window sill, turning the purple around and examining each of its petals and leaves. “I can water it again today,” he murmured, and Fred was pretty sure that he was talking to himself. 

“George,” Fred groaned. “We’ve got something a little more important going on.” 

“Neville said seven days,” George said. “Okay, yes, it’s fine.” He turned. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Fred rolled his eyes, already reaching for the letter where it was lying on the desk. 

“No, I got it!” George huffed. He snatched the letter up and read it aloud:

“ _ Dear Mr. Potter,  _

_ Please inform Mr. Weasley that I have several meetings to attend tomorrow morning and that I am due to travel in two days. Should he be free tomorrow in the afternoon, I shall be in my office from one o’clock until five o’clock. Otherwise, I shall return from my travels in two weeks' time. Please tell Mr. Weasley to contact me directly so that I know of his intent. I look forward to seeing him.  _

_ Sincerely,  _

_ Professor Minerva McGonagall  _

_ Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _ ”

“W-wow,” Fred said. “So…” 

“So, that’s it, then,” George said darkly. “We’ll see how it happened tomorrow.” He rummaged around for some parchment and ink and sat down to compose a response. 

“Yeah,” Fred said absently. He appeared to be deep in thought, which suited George just fine since he was focused on writing a letter. But eventually, Fred spoke up. “Or…” he said. “Or, we could wait until she gets back from wherever she’s going?” 

George turned to fix him with an odd look. “She said she’ll be gone  _ two weeks  _ in her letter.”

“Y-yeah,” Fred said. “And?” 

George frowned. “Fred, we’ve got to go tomorrow.”

“But why? It isn’t as if this is our only chance. She says we can come in two weeks and that’ll give us time to… to work things out.” 

“Work what things out?” 

“Um… y’know, things.” 

“Fred, you were the one who pushed for this. I didn’t want to but you thought it would be for the best! I don’t understand.”

“I know! I know I wanted to. I did… before. But now… Now I don’t know if I can, George! Okay? I don’t... It’s… it’s… I don’t feel dead, right? Not really. I can do magic, and I’m getting better and better at it every day – the plant, and then Apparating. Not to mention almost everyone knows I’m here now. Everyone that really matters anyway. I bet you Ron’s told Harry and Hermione by now and if not… I mean it’s just… George, I’m… what if it feels like dying?” His breath shook as he sunk down to sit on George’s bed. He drew his knees into his chest, shaking his head minutely. “Georgie,” he said softly, “I’m  _ afraid. _ ” 

George swallowed hard. “I… I know, Freddie,” he said, and his voice was thick with tears. His breath shook, too. “I’m afraid, too. B-but… but I really think you were right. I think we  _ need  _ to see it. At least… I do, anyway.” He drew another shaky breath. “If you can’t… I understand. Of course, I do. I won’t blame you. But I’ve got to do it. I just know that I’ve got to.” 

Fred looked at him for a long time. “Yeah,” he croaked after a while. “Yeah, sorry. I’m being silly.”

“No, you’re –”

“We’ll go tomorrow. Like you said.”

George looked back at him for a while but eventually nodded. “Tomorrow,” he said, then turned back to his desk and finished his response to McGonagall. 

***

Harry and Ron left later in the afternoon – they went to Hermione’s to see if she was ready to stop being mad at them. Molly was nowhere to be found. No one had an explanation for this, not even Arthur, but when it became evident that no one was going to be making dinner that evening, Arthur popped into town to get takeout for himself, George, Charlie, and Ginny, and her friends. 

Charlie stopped by George’s room on his way down to the kitchen to tell him that it was time for dinner and George told him he would be down in a couple of minutes. He took a glass to the bathroom and filled it halfway, then brought it back. He carefully watered the plant, gently pushing the leaves aside as he did to keep them from getting wet at all. 

“Okay, ready?” George said.

“I think I’m gonna stay up here,” Fred said. 

George blinked. “Oh, um. Okay.”

“Is that fine?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll… see you in a bit.” 

So, dinner was a subdued affair that night. 

After they were all finished and the takeaway boxes had been disposed of, George made for the stairs, eager to get back to his room. He couldn’t stop thinking about the weird mood that Fred had been in since they read the letter. He supposed there wasn’t very much damage that could be done, Fred already being dead and all, but George still found himself unable to stop worrying about his brother. 

Before he could get out of the kitchen, however, Charlie clapped a hand on his shoulder and stopped him. “Think we could take that walk now?” he asked. 

“Oh!” George said, having forgotten all about that. “Um…” he glanced toward the staircase, thinking hard, but he sighed in the end. “Yeah.” He nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.” 

They got their shoes and headed out. Charlie paused in the doorway. “Is Fred here?” he asked. 

George shook his head. 

“Do you wanna go get him?”

George shook his head again. Charlie was quiet, clearly waiting for George to explain, but George just shook his head again. He didn’t care to talk about it. 

“Okay.” Charlie shrugged. “Let’s go.” 

They headed into the woods and took their usual route in silence for a long time. They came to a fork in their path where they would usually go left, and Charlie suggested they go right that day to try something new. George considered this, then told him “No, thank you” and took the path on the left. Charlie didn’t argue. 

Soon, they reached the stream. They sat in their usual spots, but for a long while they still didn’t speak to one another. 

Finally, George huffed. “What does Mum think is wrong with me now, Charlie?”

“Wh-what?” Charlie frowned. “Oh! Oh, no! George, that’s not what this is about. This has got nothing to do with Mum. I’m sorry if I made you think that –”

“No, you didn’t,” George groaned, dragging his legs into his chest and burying his face against his knees. “Sorry, Charlie, I’m just… Never mind. Go ahead.”

“Do… do you wanna  _ talk- _ talk?”

“Ugh. No. What do you need to tell me, Charlie?” George said, looking back up at him. “What is it?” he said, but Charlie stared back at him with that stupid concerned look on his face and George wanted to crawl out of his skin. 

Eventually, Charlie sighed. “Right, that,” he said, nodding. “Um…” He stalled with silence a little longer. But at long last, he told George, “I’m going back to Romania. This weekend.” 

George didn’t cry and beg him not to go like he wanted to – although, he desperately wanted to. Instead, he nodded and said, “Okay.” 

“Is… is that okay?”

George laughed softly. “What do you want me to say to that, Charlie?  _ ‘No, don’t go back to your life! Live out home with me and our parents forever!’ _ ” 

Charlie laughed a little bit as well. But then he got very serious and told him, “I will. I would, I mean. If you asked me to.” 

George smiled. “Thanks,” he said. “I won’t ask. The dragons need you, Charlie.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “The joke shop needs me.” 

Charlie looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?” 

George nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I don’t know  _ how  _ I’m gonna do it with just me but… I’ll figure it out. I’ve got to.” 

“Why’ve you  _ got to? _ ” Charlie said. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I want to. I was always planning on it, I was just waiting for the right time.” George sighed. “Got up for a glass of water a while after I’d gone to bed last night, and I… I heard Fred crying. I don’t think he knows I heard him but I did. He was downstairs, in the shop, and… I don’t know how to put it all into words, but it’s just – it’s time. I think it’s got to be, ‘cause if not now then… then  _ when,  _ Charlie?” 

“If you’re not ready yet then there’s no reason to –” 

“This is the only way that I can think of to get back to my life, Charlie. Fred’s not going to stick around forever. After all, that’s the whole point of… What I mean to say is, without Fred and without the shop… what’ve I got?”

“All of us,” Charlie said insistently. “I know we’ve had some bumps in the road, we haven’t been there for you you like we should have been, but –”

“That’s not what I mean. That’s… it’s in the past, Charlie. You already apologized. That’s not what I’m talking about at all.”

“Then why do you think the shop is all you have left?”

“‘Cause, you’ve all got your own lives, too. I can ask you to be there for me, I think, but I can’t – and won’t – ask you to leave your lives for me. And if I keep doing nothing forever you  _ are  _ going to have to put me in St. Mungo’s ‘cause I’ll go stir crazy inside of a year in that house.” He shook his head. “ _ Truthfully,  _ I’ve been getting really sick of living with Mum. I was already thinking about going back to the flat, anyway.” 

“Living with your parents really sucks when you’re in your twenties, doesn’t it?” Charlie groaned.

“ _ Yeah, _ ” George said laughingly. “It does. So... I’m ready. I will be anyway. After tomorrow.”

Charlie frowned. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

George grinned mysteriously and said, “Sorry, Charlie, but that’s top secret.” 

***

The sun was just about to fall below the horizon in the distance but Fred wanted to stay where he was for a little while longer. 

He hadn’t stayed in the room for very long after George left for dinner. He threw the window open and flew out over the yard and up onto the roof of the Burrow. He tucked himself behind the chimney, which was where he had sat for hours and hours the previous weekend when he ran away from George for a day. 

He heard George and Charlie leave together after dinner, and he heard them when they returned. He wondered what Charlie had to tell George and his curiosity almost tugged him back into the house, but then his mind tugged him elsewhere and he was lost in thought again. 

As Fred watched the light of day disappear, he looked back on the time since he’d first showed up at the Burrow in ghost form and wondered how it had only been eight days. It certainly felt like much longer to him; he knew it must have felt like even longer to George. 

When the sun was gone altogether and Fred found himself alone in the dark, he decided it was time to head back. George had to be wondering where he was. Fred sighed, thinking to himself for the hundredth time since he’d climbed onto the roof that it wouldn’t do him any good to avoid George, especially considering what they had to do together the following day.

Fred floated back into George’s bedroom the same way he left. George jumped in shock. 

“Sorry,” Fred said, grimacing. He closed the window. 

“Where  _ have  _ you been?” George said.

“The roof,” Fred sighed. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” George said. “I was only wondering.” He closed the journal he’d been writing in and set it aside.

“What were you writing?” Fred asked.

“Nothing,” George said.

“Well, it was  _ something. _ ” 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

“I wasn’t worried about it before. But now I kind of am.” 

“I’ll tell you about it. Just… wait a minute. Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“You’ve been acting weird since we read that letter.”

Fred sighed. “I’m  _ fine,  _ George.” 

George didn’t look sure. 

“Tell me what you’re writing.” 

George stared at him quietly for a few more seconds but he caved with nothing more than a soft groan as he tossed the journal to Fred. “Bill wants a three-month plan. Like that’s supposed to prove I’m not crazy somehow.” 

Fred caught the little book with ease and eagerly started flipping through the pages. It took him a couple minutes to decipher what George’s crooked handwriting meant. He slowly looked up, brow furrowed in uncertainty. “Really?” he said. 

George nodded slowly. “Yeah, Fred. Really.” 

Fred laughed. He laughed and he couldn’t stop laughing. “Brilliant!” he said. “You’re bloody brilliant! Thank you, George! Thank you! Oh… Oh, it’s all I really want. And I was trying not to push it, and I was trying to be okay with the fact that you might not. I want you to do what’s going to make you happy, and I really want that to be the shop because I think you’d still love it – you’d be so good at it on your own, too – and you can hire help! But I – what I’m to say is that I –” He huffed. “Gods, I don’t know  _ what  _ I’m trying to say, but,  _ George  _ – bloody hell!” 

“Bloody hell,” George laughed, grinning. “I – I want to. I really do. I wasn’t totally sure if I wanted to at first, but I do.” He nodded. “I swear. I’m – I wanna ask if you’re okay with something.” 

“Ask someone to be a partner? Do it.”

George laughed again. “You read my mind.”

“Who’re you going to ask?” 

“I was thinking about asking Lee. He still hasn’t found a job as far as I’ve heard from him, and I'm pretty sure he'd tell me. And I think he'd be really good at it. He always had great ideas whenever we consulted him.”

“I agree. Excellent idea.” Fred closed the journal and tossed it down on George’s bedside table. He sat down on the bed. “So what’d Charlie have to say?”

“Oh,” George sighed. “He’s going back to dragon country.”

“What?!” Fred cried. “When?!”

“Sunday.”

“Sunday?!” 

“Mhm.”

“But that’s so soon!”

“Yeah, I guess Ginny’s party is starting at  _ two  _ on Sunday so Charlie can be there for the beginning. He starts work again on Monday morning, so…” George shrugged his shoulders. “He said that he would quit his job and just live here if that’s what I needed from him. He said all I had to do was ask. I told him to go.”

“Why?”

“Merlin, Fred, ‘cause he loves his work. He… he loves it. How could I keep him from that?” 

“Yeah,” Fred sighed. “That really sucks, though.”

“Yup.”

“So.”

“So.”

“What now?” 

Neither of them knew. George sat up. “You know what I want?”

“What?”

“A drink.” 

Fred grinned. “Get a drink, Georgie.”

“It feels wrong, though. You  _ can’t  _ have a drink.”

“Then you should have two.”

“Well, I already would’ve had two, anyway.”

“Well, so would I. So you should have four, I guess.” 

George shrugged. “Not sure that’s how that works.”

“You’re no good at maths.”

“Got me there.”

“Well, I am. So trust me.”

“Yeah, all right.”

Fred scoped out George’s route for him before he went so that he didn’t run into any sort of trouble. In the end, George wound up coming back to his room with six single-serve bottles of firewhiskey.

“For luck?” Fred said.

George grinned. “Absolutely.”

They talked through two bottles of firewhiskey, at which point George pulled the list of things they knew about Fred’s death. “Guess this’ll get a lot longer tomorrow, huh?” he said. 

Fred hummed. “Guess so,” he said. “Another drink?”

George sat down on the rug and popped open his third bottle. “You know what?” he said. “You’re my favorite person.” 

Fred laughed. “Yeah? Thanks, George.” 

“But here’s the thing,” George went on. “That’s fucked, isn’t it? ‘Cause you’re…”

“Dead,” Fred supplied.

“Yeah, that.” George took a sip of firewhisky. 

“Okay,” Fred said. He got up from where he was sitting on the bed and sat in front of George on the floor. “Well, who’s your second favorite person?” 

“What?”

“Who’s your  _ second  _ favorite person?” 

“I dunno. Charlie, probably. And he’s going back to Romania.”

“Okay, well, how about your third favorite?”   
“Uh, Ginny? She’s going back to Hogwarts in three weeks.” 

“Okay,” Fred huffed. “How about people who aren’t family?”

“Well, Lee, obviously. Um…” 

“What about Angelina?” 

George nodded quickly. “Oh, yeah. Angelina. She’s great.” 

“So spend time with  _ them. _ ”

George smiled. “Yeah, thanks. But it’s not that simple.” 

“I think it is. You’re gonna ask Lee to come work with you, right? Give him my room. Get a  _ roommate.  _ I can’t stand the idea of you being all alone.”

George shrugged. He was finished with his drink. “What d’you suppose would happen if you tried to have a whiskey?”

Fred rolled his eyes. “You’re changing the subject.” 

George hummed. “Let’s try it.” 

“We’ve tried already.”

“We already tried food.” 

“This isn’t all that different.” 

“Just – just – just –” George shook his head and tried to get a bottle open. It took him a little while but he managed it and held it out to Fred. “Just try it, Fred.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I wanna see what’ll happen.” 

“ _ Why? _ ” 

George leaned in and whispered, “ _ ‘Cause I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. _ ” 

Fred rolled his eyes but he also couldn’t help but laugh. “All right,” he huffed. He took the bottle and got up. He stood in the middle of the room, pressed the bottle to his lips, and drank. 

It was a very odd sensation. Almost everything else would collide with Fred as it would any real, solid thing; it wasn’t as if he was incorporeal to everyone but George, just invisible. But as they had found early on in the week when they tried with food, anything edible seemed to pass right through him like it would any normal ghost. The firewhiskey did the same and Fred shivered as it fell through him and splashed upon the floor. George threw his head back and laughed louder than Fred had heard him do since they were still in school. He decided that it was well worth it and took another sip, causing George to laugh even harder. 

“I think you ought to finish this,” Fred said with a smile, holding the bottle out to George, who was still laughing, took it from him. Most of its contents were already on the floor, but George drained the rest of it. 

George grunted. “I think I need some water,” he said.

Fred laughed. “I think that’s a good idea,” he said, and he opened the door for George. “You’re not seventeen anymore.” 

George blinked. “I'm always gonna be older than you now,” he said. 

Fred didn’t know what to make of that, but George was far too drunk to care about anything other than how thirsty he was for very long. 

George did his very best to creep downstairs but Fred, who followed close behind him, was pretty sure he had woken up the whole house.  George got his water and went back to his room. Fred was surprised all the while that Arthur or Molly didn’t pop on out to talk with him. 

Back in the bedroom, George sat down on his bed, spilling some of his water onto his pillow. He sat quietly and drank what remained in his glass. He set the empty glass down on his side table, side, and said, “What?”

Fred raised one eyebrow. “What?” he said back. 

“You’re just lookin’ at me,” George said and then shrugged. “Fred?”

“George?”

“Why didn’t you tell me ‘bout Wood?” 

Fred groaned. “I dunno,” he said. “Probably ‘cause I didn’t wanna face what it meant about me.”

“I don’t care,” George said, and he looked to be on the verge of tears. He had always been very emotional when drunk. “Y’know that, right?” 

Fred couldn’t help but smile. “I know.” He sat down next to George on the bed and laid a hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t ever you that I was afraid of facing. No, it was never you. I knew you’d be… I knew you’d be better about it than me.”

That didn’t stop George from crying, but it did make him smile through the tears. “As long as y’know,” he whispered and then went back to drinking the bottle in hand. The two of them were quiet for a long time, but eventually, George mustered up the courage to say, “Tell me about it?” 

Fred blinked. “About sleeping with Oliver Wood?” 

“Well, more like what led up to it,” George shrugged, his words slurring together. “But…  _ kinda.  _ I mean, how was it?”

“Okay, okay,” Fred said. “It was… The first time was at the after-party. After we won the Quidditch Cup.”

George frowned. “‘Kay…” he said slowly. “ _ Think  _ I remember you disappearin’ from that one.” 

“Yeah, afterward I snuck past you and went to the kitchens. I came back with food so you’d think I’d just been there the whole time.” 

George’s eyes widened. “ _ Omigods, _ ” he whispered, which made Fred laugh. 

“ _ Anyway, _ ” Fred went on. “It wasn’t very long into the party, maybe an hour – so, Oliver Wood spills his drink on my shirt, right? And then says he’ll take me upstairs and get me another one.” 

“ _ No. _ ”

“ _ Yes.  _ So I think that he  _ must  _ be hitting on me, right?”

“Right!”

“Wrong.”

“NO!” 

“Now, I’d always kinda had a thing for him.” 

George hummed. “Me, too.” He took another sip of firewhiskey. 

Fred raised his eyebrows. “You, too?”

George hummed again. “Problem?”

Fred smiled. “Not at all,” he said and moved on very swiftly. “So he brings me upstairs, I’m so sure he’s hitting on me, I kiss him –” 

“ _ Youkissedhim?! _ ” 

“Obviously,” Fred laughed. “He never would’ve kissed me. But after I kissed him, he looked  _ very  _ confused. Things got sort of awkward, we talked for a bit and then… I dunno. Just sorta happened.” 

“Jus’ sorta happened?” George echoed, smirking. 

“Shut up,” Fred said. “And then the second time, he came to  _ apologize,  _ and well…”

“Jus’ sorta happened?” George repeated.

“Okay,” Fred laughed. “Yeah, whatever.” 

“And the third time?” George said expectantly. He looked quite sober all of a sudden. 

Fred sighed. “Hear me out,” he said. “I snuck out to see him, but only ‘cause I didn’t see him after the attack. I didn’t know if he was okay. I thought about asking you to come with me, but you went right to sleep. And then once I was there…”

“Jus’ sorta happened?” George said again. 

Fred huffed. “It was a high-adrenaline evening. We just…”

“I thought you were dead.” 

Fred winced. “I didn’t know you ever knew I was gone.” 

“I didn’t. But earlier that night we ran away from  _ Death Eaters  _ and then I turned around and you were gone. I thought you were  _ dead.  _ So to think that you’d jus’… on the  _ same night… _ ” George trailed off and drained the rest of the firewhiskey he’d been holding onto. He set it aside on the table. “Whatever. Can’t change the past.”

“Certainly can’t. If you could…”

“Yeah.” George sighed then picked up the sixth bottle of firewhiskey. He set it on the table with the empty ones then started pulling the covers up. “Fred?”

“On it.” Fred turned the lights off and crawled underneath the covers with George. “You need to lay on your side.”

George groaned.

“If you puke –”

“ _ Okay. _ ” George turned onto his side.

“Anyway, I couldn’t fit otherwise.” 

“Mhm.” 

“George?”

“Fred.”

“What happened at the end of May?” 

George frowned. He kept his eyes squeezed shut even as he answered. “What d’you mean?” 

“I mean there was clearly some talk you had with Bill. And there was some big talk that Charlie and Bill had, as well. I dunno, it just keeps coming up. It’s weird. And every time it does… I dunno. Bill and Charlie just seemed really concerned today, is all.” 

“What – d’you think I should be in St. Mungo’s now, too?” George grumbled. “ _ Mum? _ ”

“No!” Fred said quickly. “No, I just… Never mind. Sorry, George. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Hey, what d’you think – is Percy gonna break it off with Oliver Wood now that he knows?” 

George opened his eyes wide and thought about this for a while. Finally, he said, “I really dunno.”

“I just wanted to ruin dinner. Not their lives.” 

George sighed. “I shouldn’t’ve brought it up in the middle of dinner.”

“I shouldn’t have told you in the middle of dinner,” Fred said. “I’d really like for Wood to be happy, though. And… and Percy, too.” 

George nodded. “I think,” he said slowly, “that they’re good together. I think they seem to really love each other. And so I’d  _ like  _ to think that they’ll get through this.” 

Fred smiled. “I hope so.” 

They talked into the night. They talked because Fred wasn’t able to sleep, and neither was George. They talked to distract their minds from what had to be done the next day. They talked until they ran out of words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over my cold, dead body are Fred and George straight- labels be damned, who needs them!!


	10. take my ears (take them and disappear)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Face your fears".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: death, graphic descriptions of violence/death, suicidal thoughts/ideation, grief/mourning, anxiety attacks, major character death 
> 
> I almost never cry when I’m writing, to be honest. I think it’s because I get too focused… I bawled writing this one. Best of luck. 
> 
> Mind the warnings. This chapter is shorter than recent ones have been, but it’s a dark one. Be kind to yourself.

George fell asleep as the sun began to rise. He and Fred had laid in bed for hours and talked to each other. They talked about what a bizarre week it had been. They talked about their parents and their siblings, and they talked about how annoying Percy and Oliver’s children were going to be if they ever had any. They asked themselves again how Fred could possibly be there, and they still came up with no answers. They talked about the Death Plant, and George begged Fred not to call it that anymore. They talked about what they had to do the next day eventually when they had really run out of anything else to talk about. Fred came up with some wild and fanciful theories about his death to distract from how scared he really was to find out exactly how he had died. They talked about anything until George’s head fell against Fred’s shoulder and he dozed off, snoring ever so lightly. 

Fred didn’t dare move for hours for fear of waking him up, but when a magnificent, silvery grey owl appeared on the window sill, he finally climbed out of bed. He took the letter from the owl, thanked it, and set out some water for it. It looked affronted that he didn’t have more to offer, but it drank the water nonetheless. Fred turned back to the bed and leaned over it. “C’mon, Georgie,” he said, loud and clear. “You’ve got to get up now.”

George woke slowly, blinking up at Fred without focusing on his face for a while, then softly whispered something. Fred tried to make out what it was and just barely caught the very last word: “ _ you _ ”. George’s eyes promptly fell shut and he started snoring softly once more.

Fred frowned. “What’d did you say?” he said, then reached down to shake George’s shoulder. “George, c’mon, you gotta get up.”

George woke again, more abruptly this time. “I’m up,” he said sharply, then groaned. “I’m up,” he said again, yawning this time. 

“What did you mean?” Fred said.

“Hm?”

“You woke up for a second and said… well, I couldn’t hear what it was but you said  _ something,  _ and then you went back to sleep.” 

George blinked and rubbed his eyes. “No idea,” he said, yawning again. “I was having a really weird dream, though.”

Fred raised his eyebrows. “No nightmare?”

George thought about this, then shook his head. “No nightmare.”

“Were you still at Hogwarts?” 

“I… I can’t remember.” 

“Hm.” Fred shrugged. “Sounds like a normal dream, then. If it wasn’t vivid enough for you to remember where you were, I mean.” 

“Yeah. What time is it?”

“Almost one o‘clock.” 

“Oh, okay.” George got out of bed at once. “Didn’t mean to sleep so late. We should go soon.” 

Fred didn’t answer right away, but eventually, he nodded. “Yeah,” he said. He wanted to say more. So did George. There was just nothing more to say except for, “Oh, right. Er – this came for you.” 

George looked at the letter and then up at the owl that was still drinking from the glass that Fred had set on the window sill for it. “Right.” He took the envelope and tore it open, scanning the contents of the parchment inside quickly. “McGonagall,” he told Fred eventually. “She’s just sent the password to get into her office. I’ll get dressed now and then we can go.” 

Fred scoped out George’s route ahead of time. If Charlie or Arthur spotted him trying to leave, he was pretty certain that they would stop him and question him. They might even insist that they come along with him. George had been very carefully avoiding telling anyone what exactly his and Fred’s plan was to take care of the Ghost Situation. How was one to explain something like that?

(It very suddenly occurred to George, while he was waiting for Fred to come back and tell him that the coast was clear, that they had no idea where to go from there, once they had seen how it happened. They might wind up stuck all over again.)

Once they were outside, they Apparated into Hogsmeade. George had been worried that Fred’s Apparition skills might not be as consistent as they both hoped they were, but he was very fortunately proven wrong. Fred appeared beside him mere moments after he appeared. There was no  _ CRACK  _ when Fred Apparated, but neither of them mentioned it. 

They marched up to the castle, in through the front doors. No one stopped George or asked him what his business in the castle was, but Fred didn’t have any trouble avoiding bumping into other people, either. People still kept their distance, watching each other out of the corners of their eyes. The world went back to normal three months ago, but did it really?

The castle looked to be in good shape. The repairs and renovations were nearly done. They would certainly be finished before the students arrived in a few weeks. George and Fred both did their best not to think about how many students would be missing on September first of that year. 

George spoke the password to the gargoyle that guarded the headmistress’s office. When the statue stepped aside, Fred and George glanced at one another, frowning. Neither of them wanted to go up there, yet somehow they pressed each other on. Up the spiral steps they climbed. Fred managed a smirk at George when they reached the top, reaching out his arm and knocking before George could think to do the same. 

“Enter,” called a familiar voice from within. 

They pushed the door open and walked into the office. They approached McGonagall’s desk as she stood up and walked out from behind it. George opened his mouth, ready to greet her, but she ducked to the ground and turned into a tabby cat before he got the chance. 

“O-okay,” George said. 

McGonagall sat silently in her cat form for a while, then transformed back, smiling. “It’s good to see you, Mr. Weasley,” she said, nodding to George. “And you, Mr. Weasley,” she added, nodding to the place where Fred stood. 

Fred blinked. “Does McGonagall know about Nargles, too, then?”

“P-Professor – ?” George said. 

“I suspected what your predicament may be as soon as your mother wrote to me earlier in the week,” McGonagall told him matter-of-factly. “She said that you were having an  _ episode _ and that no one in the house was on her side. She thought I might be able to help – heaven only knows  _ why _ .” She snorted. “But I had my suspicions, as I said. I could not be absolutely certain until now, of course. I was trying to figure out how best to reach out to you with my advice when I received a letter from Mr. Potter on your behalf. I am very pleased that you both could make it here today. Wipe that look off your face, if you please.” She shook her head at George and answered his question before he could ever figure out the best way to ask it. “Animals can see spirits, Mr. Weasley.” 

“McGonagall’s such a badass,” Fred said, grinning. “Tell her she’s a badass.”

“I’m not saying that,” George hissed.

“Not saying what, Mr. Weasley?” McGonagall said.

George shook his head. “N-nothing, Professor.”

McGonagall chuckled. “Mr. Weasley, could you explain to me why it is that you can see your brother’s ghost when no one else can see or hear him?”

George frowned. “No, Professor. I can’t. Been trying to work that out ourselves.”

“Have a seat, Weasley,” McGonagall said. “Both of you.”

It had been over two years since Fred and George were Professor McGonagall's students, and it wasn’t as if they had always followed her directions very precisely when they had been at school, but they had no reason to refuse her now. They sat down at the desk, and she sat opposite them. 

“Are you both familiar with the different forms of ghostly apparitions?” McGonagall asked. 

“Er…” Fred said.

“Not really.” George frowned. “Charlie and Percy both told us that all of this isn’t how ghosts work.” 

“On the contrary,” McGonagall said, eyebrows raised at a sharp angle. “What I believe you are experiencing is quite a rare phenomenon, but not unheard of.”

Fred and George looked at each other, and then back at McGonagall. 

“What’s she saying?” Fred said.

“What do you mean?” George said. 

“Am I correct in assuming that you – Fred – have some sort of  _ unfinished business? _ ”

Fred frowned. “Merlin, woman. Nothing gets past her, huh?”

“Yeah,” George said. “Yeah, that’s right. Why? What does that mean?” 

Professor McGonagall sighed. “Well, it is difficult to be certain beyond any doubts.  _ However… _ ” she tapped a finger on her chin thoughtfully. “Sometimes when spirits have unfinished business they will attach themselves to an earthly object until it is finished. Sometimes a piece of jewelry or even clothing, often a portrait or photograph. Something that meant very much to them in life. Something left behind. But rarely,  _ very rarely,  _ instead of an object, it is a person that a spirit becomes attached to. This so rare because, for this to be possible, the bond between two individuals must be so incredibly strong…” McGonagall carefully removed her spectacles and laid them down on her desk, regarding them both with a warm smile. “Of course, there is no doubt in my mind that the two of you shared such a bond.” 

“Well, this is just…” Fred said.

George didn’t dare look at Fred for fear of bursting into tears. “Thank you, Professor,” he said shakily. “We couldn’t figure it out for the life of us, so…” He trailed off, realizing exactly what he had said. “Anyway, thank you.” 

McGonagall nodded. “You’re very welcome, Mr. Weasley. I am sorry to say that I cannot offer much guidance beyond this. However, since you have found your way here on your own, I trust you already have a plan to, well,  _ finish business. _ ”

George nodded. So did Fred. 

“Well, then, I shall leave you to it,” McGonagall said gently. “If you should need me, I will be conducting an interview in my old office. I trust you both remember where that is.” Then McGonagall took her leave. 

Fred and George looked at one another when the door clicked shut behind her. They were quiet for a long, long time. In the end, George whispered, “This is it.” 

“Yeah,” Fred said. His voice shook. “Let’s get this over with.” 

They went to the Pensieve. It glowed ominously, casting a sickening blue light upon their faces. George pulled the vial Percy had given him from his pocket with trembling fingers. He uncorked it over the Pensieve, afraid that he would spill it on the floor otherwise. George held his breath while he poured the contents of the vial into the Pensieve. 

The wispy blue memory swirled around and around in the great, golden bowl. The Weasley twins eyed one another out of the corners of their eyes. 

George sighed heavily. “Ready, Gred?” 

Even when faced with the worst, Fred couldn’t help but smile at him. “Ready, Forge.” 

Fred went first, since they weren’t sure how the Pensieve would react to his presence. Fred leaned into the bowl and fell headfirst, then disappeared. George had never seen anyone enter a Pensieve, nor had he ever entered into one himself, but he assumed that was what was meant to happen, so he stepped forward to follow Fred into the memory. 

As soon as George dipped his face into the shockingly cold liquid inside the Pensieve, he could neither see nor hear anything. He was only aware of the sensation of falling, and falling, and falling… Until he landed upright in a place he knew all too well. The colors of the world were muted, but he would know it anywhere. 

George staggered toward the window and looked out into the night. The sky had exploded, the world was on the verge of tearing apart, and George could see it all from one of Hogwarts’ very many corridors. He’d seen it all before but from a very different angle. 

Out of the corner of his eye, George caught a glimpse of red hair and freckles. He assumed it was Fred at first – Fred hadn’t appeared to have any problems entering the Pensieve, after all, so he should surely be inside – but when George glanced at the man a second time he caught sight of the Prewett family nose and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses that he would know anywhere. 

“Percy,” George said softly. 

Percy didn’t hear him, of course. George briefly wondered if this was anything like how Fred had felt around their family for the past week. He blinked.

Percy shivered and clutched his wand to his chest. 

George turned around himself. “Fred?” he called. “ _ Fred? _ ” 

Fred came running around the corner and for a split second George was relieved, but then Percy looked even more relieved and George realized...

“Death Eaters!” Fred cried, grabbing onto Percy. He tried to catch his breath. 

_ This is it.  _

“Are you okay?” Percy said. 

Fred nodded. “Set off some Darkness Powder, should slow ‘em down.” He was still breathing heavily. “Have you seen George?” he asked, and that alone was nearly enough to break George, who was standing a few feet away and watching Percy’s memory play out with wide eyes. 

Percy opened his mouth to answer but at that moment, two Death Eaters hurtled around the corner, throwing curses in their direction that they only narrowly avoided. George watched, frozen in place, as the hooded men that Fred and Percy were dueling forced them backward. Eventually, Fred and Percy had backed up so much that George was forced to move for he could no longer see them. He jogged after them and Ron, Harry, and Hermione came into view just as they joined Fred and Percy in their duel. George caught up to the memories of his brothers in time to see one of the Death Eaters’ hoods fall. 

“Minister!” Percy cried, sounding almost gleeful. He punctuated his greeting with a brilliant jinx to Thicknesse’s chest, then added, “Did I mention I’m resigning?” 

“You’re joking, Percy!” Fred shouted, and then he, Harry, and Hermione each Stunned the Death Eater that he had been dueling. The masked figure crumpled to the ground. Fred drifted toward Percy, admiring his work on the Minister of Magic, who was now squirming at their feet. He looked up at Percy, breath heavy from the fight but still managing to laugh. “You actually  _ are  _ joking, Percy… I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were –” 

George didn’t know how he knew it was coming before it did. He didn’t even mean to cry out, but he did. He reached out his hand and shouted, “ _ Fred! _ ” like he could do anything to stop what was about to happen. 

In the moment before the world exploded, George imagined that Fred could hear him. He imagined that Fred looked around to see him in the second before the castle wall became rubble and crushed him. He knew that he had to have imagined it. 

George stood still for what felt like a very long time after it had happened. The crumbling wall passed through him like he was a ghost; George tried to remember that the wall was the one who was the ghost, merely a memory, but he was having trouble with it. Maybe George  _ was  _ a ghost; maybe he was dead.

Dead or alive, George was sure that he wouldn’t have been able to feel it if the wall  _ had  _ hit him the same as it had done to Fred. He stared at the place where Fred was mostly buried and felt numb to everything, physical and emotional alike. 

Percy appeared beside George, scanning the area. Time seemed to start moving again. Ron was staggering to his feet and brushing himself off. Harry and Hermione were both partly buried and bleeding profusely but they were moving and soon began pushing the stones on top of them out of the way. 

“F-Fred?” Percy said in a very small voice. 

George groaned softly. 

Percy spotted Fred’s arm sticking out of a pile of debris at an ugly angle and was at his side in a second, pushing the pieces of the wall away with seemingly superhuman strength. 

George started shaking his head. He didn’t know what for – it wasn’t as if anyone could see him – but he also couldn’t stop. He was shaking his head as he watched Percy drag Fred across the stone floor. George was suddenly very sure that he couldn’t do this – he couldn’t handle this – but there was no going back. He was already watching Percy prop Fred up against the wall with a loud grunt. Percy said his name one more time before he realized – before he  _ saw  _ – 

Fred stared across the hallway without seeing and Percy screamed. George felt nothing and everything at once, frozen in place. He thought maybe he should get closer as Ron came over and fell across Fred’s chest, crying softly, but the world began to dissolve around him, so he squeezed his eyes shut and let himself fall away with it.

George came back out of the Pensieve with a gasp. He couldn’t find his balance in time and he tumbled to the floor. Quickly, he looked side to side. “Fred!” he cried. He couldn’t see him. He couldn’t find him. 

Several moments passed in a silence that was agony, the air filled only with the sound of George crying softly. “Fred?!” he said again, choking back a sob. 

This time, after a beat of silence, Fred answered. “Can you do something for me, George?”

George followed the sound of his voice, scrambling to his feet. 

Fred was standing over by McGonagall's desk. He was staring at George like he hadn’t seen him in ages. 

“How’d you get over there?” George asked, trodding a little closer to him. “Fred, where were you in there? What happened?”

Fred blinked. “George, will you do something for me?” 

“Wh–” George froze in place, several feet away from him, as he realized that Fred wasn’t looking at him. He was looking  _ behind  _ him. George looked to see what was behind him. It was a bookshelf. He turned back to face Fred.

“Will you do something for me?” Fred asked for the third time, softer this time.

George wanted to know what was going on first, but Fred’s glassy eyes looked a little bit too much like they did when he was dead and George was willing to do just about anything to make it stop. “Yeah, Fred,” he said quickly. “What do you need, Fred?” 

Fred finally looked at him instead of looking over his shoulder, but he still had that same look in his eyes. “Will you tell Percy that I forgive him?”

“Fred?”

“Promise me, George.” Fred’s tone was urgent.

“I promise,” George said quickly, frowning. 

This appeared to satisfy Fred as he went back to staring wistfully over George’s shoulder. 

George checked to see if there was anything behind him that he had missed when he checked the first time, but he still found himself faced with nothing more than that same bookshelf. He turned back. “ _ Fred, _ ” he said insistently, trying and failing to grab his attention. “Fred,  _ where were you? _ ” 

“I was in there.” Fred nodded slowly, but he didn’t say anything more. 

“Okay,” George said slowly. “Um, I… I didn’t see you in there.” 

Fred looked back at him then. He looked him right in the eyes, smiling. “Yes, you did,” he said. (George was sure that he would deny it later, but Fred knew that he wouldn’t.) “You  _ saw me. _ ” 

George shook his head. “I didn’t. I looked for you and didn’t see you  _ anywhere  _ until I saw you die!” he said, and it hit him as he said it. “W-wait…” 

“You did it, Georgie,” Fred said, almost tearfully.

George could hardly believe that he had waited as long as he had to run across the room and pull Fred into a hug. Fred hugged him back. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m sorry you had to –”

“It’s okay,” George said. “It’s not your fault.” 

Fred grimaced. “Thank you,” he said anyway. Then, he said, “Now?” 

“Now what?” 

“Give me a few more minutes.”

“Fred, who’re you talking to?” 

Fred sighed, and he leaned his forehead on George’s shoulder. “This is it.” 

“What’s it? Stop changing the subject.  _ Where were you? _ ” 

“You know where I was, Georgie. You saw me.” 

“No. You can’t have…” George trailed off, thinking about how he could have sworn Fred looked at him when he called his name the split second before the wall exploded. 

“ _ Listen to me,  _ George.” Fred still clung to him tightly, but he raised his head and leaned back enough to look his brother in the face. “Number eight. It only hurt for a second.” 

“What do you –”

“Number eight. On the list. It only hurt for a second, okay? It wasn’t bad. It was over fast.” 

“St-stop.” George shook his head. “I don’t want to hear.” 

“You’ve got to. I’m trying to tell you –” 

“No, I’ve just had to  _ see it. _ ” He tried to tear himself away from Fred, but Fred clung to him even more tightly and shouted. 

“No, don’t let go! Please… Please, don’t let go.” The way that Fred’s voice sounded made George’s blood run cold, though he couldn’t place exactly why; he froze. 

“F-Fred?” 

“You have to listen to me, George,” Fred spoke in a tone twice as serious as any that he had ever used in life – especially with  _ George  _ of all people! “You need to listen to me, okay?” 

“O-okay,” George groaned as he finally gave in. He couldn’t tell exactly what was going on, but he knew that something had to be up if Fred was acting like this. “What’s wrong, Fred?” he asked. 

“I lived it,” Fred said. “In the Pensieve. You watched it. I lived it.”

“Th-that’s awful –”

“No, George. Listen to me.” 

“Okay, okay. I’m listening.” 

“Remember what you said to me about the nightmares? You said you were always looking for me ‘cause you could  _ hear me  _ – you said that you could hear me screaming and calling your name, right?”

“Fred –”

“But it only hurt for a second. And then it was over. Just like that.”

“ _ Fred  _ –”

“There’s more. You said –” Fred stopped. He was crying. 

“Fred?” George tried to peel away from him, but Fred started yelling again.

“Don’t let go!” Fred said. “You need to listen to me.” 

“O-okay. I’m listening. What’s the matter?” 

“I still can’t remember when I actually died. I can  _ only  _ remember it in the Pensieve.” 

George blinked. “Okay…” 

“I saw you.” Fred smiled. “You made it in time.” 

George’s face crumpled and he buried his face against Fred’s shoulder. They both cried for a long time. It felt like ages to both of them, but they had always been notorious for losing track of time so easily. Eventually, Fred managed to stop crying long enough to say, “Listen to me, Georgie.” 

“Listening,” George croaked. 

“When you let go… I’ll be gone.” 

“ _ What?! _ ”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Fred hugged him tighter. “It’s gonna be okay. But… they’re back.” 

“Who’s back?! What do you mean?!” 

Fred sighed. “When I… well, I suppose you can’t quite call it waking up. But some time after I died, I opened my eyes and Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon were there waiting for me.”

“ _ You’re just telling me this now?! _ ” 

“I thought we’d have more time. I thought… Look, I’m sorry, but…” Fred swallowed hard. “But they’re back now. It’s time for me to go.” 

“No, please. I’m not ready.” 

“Yes, you are. Because I am, and the only way I could be…” 

“I’m not, though.” George shook his head. “ _ Take me with you, _ ” he hissed. He grimaced. He hadn’t meant to let it slip out, the same way he hadn’t been able to stop it when he’d woken up that afternoon. 

Fred looked him in the face, frowning deeply. They stayed that way for a long time while Fred allowed George’s words to sink in properly, and then he shook his head. “ _No,_ ” he said very firmly. “Do you hear me? No. Don’t you dare, Georgie. You are gonna have a long, happy life. You’re gonna open the shop, remember? And you’re gonna ask Angelina Johnson on a fucking date ‘cause I don’t care what you say, I _know_ you’re in love with her! You are gonna _live_ and when you die – when you die in years and years and years – I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Fred –”

“ _ I will be waiting for you _ . So… don’t rush, yeah?” 

George drew in a deep breath, but he nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” Fred shifted slightly. 

“W-wait, Fred!” George said. “I’m sorry I let Mum call me ‘Georgie’ after you died!” 

Fred smiled and leaned his forehead against George’s. “All’s well. Do whatever you need to do. I trust you... I’ll see you later, okay?” 

George matched his smile even as tears streaked his cheeks. “‘Til we meet again.” 

“Love you, Georgie.” 

“Love you, Freddie.”

They did everything together. They did everything but die together. They let go together, too. And then, true to his word, Fred was gone. 

***

Fred disappeared in a burst of light that might have blinded George for a long time. He didn’t know. He closed his eyes and wept for what felt like ages, but he was always the one who was really bad at keeping track of time and everyone blamed it on both of them. By the time someone came and found him, he had fallen down and had his face pressed against the floor. 

Everyone has read about grief that feels like knives stabbing your chest, but that’s not what it’s like at all. Sometimes you scream the loudest when you’re so numb you don’t even remember who you are anymore. 

***

When George came back to himself, he blinked up at the people standing over him. 

“Is he waking up, Poppy?”

“Are you okay, George?”

“Here, drink this.” 

Someone poured something disgusting down George’s throat and held this mouth shut, forcing him to swallow it. He grunted but, admittedly, he felt better within moments. He sat up slowly. Someone handed him a glass of water. He drank it without looking up. 

“Mr. Weasley…” George still refused to look up from his drink, but he recognized Professor McGonagall’s voice. “What on earth happened in here?”

George couldn’t answer. He started crying again. 

“All right,” said another voice. George frowned because he was pretty certain he knew who it was, but he didn’t know how he could possibly be there. 

George looked up slowly and, sure enough, Percy was standing over him. He frowned deeply at him. “Wh-what’re you doing here, Perce?” he asked.

Percy smiled. “I’ll tell you later, okay?” he said, then turned to McGonagall. “I will send word to your Deputy Headmistress within in the day, I promise. I need a little more time to think. But right now I need to bring my brother home to –”

“Yes, absolutely, I agree,” McGonagall cut him off, nodding. “Be on your way, Mr. Weasley. Pomona will be sure that your response finds me.” 

George looked up a little further to find that the third person hovering nervously above him was Madame Pomfrey. “Here you are, Mr. Weasley,” she said, forcing three vials filled with a thick blue potion into his hand. It reminded him of the wispy memory in a vial and he had to fight the urge to squeeze his eyes shut. “If you experience any more of this episodic anxiety, you can take one of these. Just don’t take more than one in a day, understand? Oh, stay well, my boy.” 

George was hardly given any time at all to digest all that was happening. He was pulled to his feet and Percy led him from the office and into a corridor. “What did you come here for?” Percy asked him.

“The Pen– Dumbledore’s Pensieve,” George said. “Percy, can we not walk so fast?”

“Sorry,” Percy said, and he slowed down considerably. “Sorry, but did you say  _ Dumbledore’s Pensieve? _ ”

“He left it to Harry,” George said shakily. “Harry said I could use it to…” 

“Oh,” Percy said, his eyes wide. “Right. Okay. Let’s get you home.”

“ _ No, _ ” George said. “Please, don’t take me home.  _ Anywhere  _ but home.” 

Percy frowned. “O-okay. Well, you’re welcome at my flat, if you want…?”

George blinked at him. “Could I really?” 

Percy paused a moment, looking surprised. He seemed to remember himself and nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Whatever you want, George. Come on. Let’s go.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned this chapter right after I wrote the first chapter. As we've gotten closer and closer, I've been so nervous to have to actually write this one. I kept putting it off and got nit-picky about editing chapter 9 instead. But in the end, it wrote itself. Over the past forty-eight hours it's just poured out onto the page. I was surprised by how short it was, but I've read it about twenty times through and I'm happy to say that I'm proud of the end product. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me this far. I'm so excited to show you the light at the end of the tunnel.


	11. take my lungs (take them and run)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred is gone, and George isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: minor suicidal ideation, brief mention of therapy/mental hospitals, minor nightmares, recreational drug use
> 
> Tried to get this up on 2/2 because it was my birthday AND my five year anniversary of joining Ao3, but ah well... This is the last chapter, folks! 12 will be the epilogue. Thank you so much for reading!

“You’ll have to excuse the mess,” Percy said as the two of them stumbled through the door, chests heaving and breath heavy at the top of a four-story climb. “I’m in the process of moving currently.” Indeed, a good portion of the room’s contents were packed very neatly into boxes. 

George couldn’t help but notice that Oliver’s Gryffindor banners and Quidditch posters were the ones still hanging. He eyed an old family photo from Ginny’s first Christmas that was waving up at him from where it was packed away and felt a pang of guilt as he walked by. 

“Please, have a seat,” Percy said and he gestured to the sofa. “Would you like some tea?” 

“I’d love some tea,” George said. His voice was scratchy. He hadn’t spoken during their entire journey. “Can I use your restroom?”

Percy showed him where it was and told him he’d be in the kitchen if George needed him. 

George locked the door and made sure that Percy was well out of earshot before he pressed his hands against the counter and started to cry. He had to turn away soon because unless he stared directly into the face of his reflection, he could swear it was Fred standing next to him. 

By the time George returned to the sitting room, Percy had already returned from the kitchen with tea. “Oh, there you are,” he said. “I was beginning to worry.” He gestured to the sofa again. “Please, sit. I wasn’t sure how you take your tea these days. I have milk and sugar and there’s honey in the kitchen if you like. The bottle’s nearly empty, though, so it might be quite hard to –”

George, who had been too busy staring around the flat with all of Percy’s things packed away and ready to go to listen to what Percy was saying, very suddenly burst into tears. 

Percy blinked. “I don’t… I’m sorry… What did I say?” 

George shook his head. He staggered over to the couch and sat down. “Percy,” he said miserably. 

“George?” Percy said anxiously 

“Did I ruin your relationship?”

“Wh-what?” 

George groaned. “I told everyone that Fred slept with Wood.” 

Percy pursed his lips. “Ah. That. Um –” 

“You broke up with him already, didn’t you?” George said and more tears welled up in his eyes.    
“N-no,” Percy said, shaking his head. 

“You haven’t?”

“No.” 

“Are you planning on –”

“No, George. I promise Oliver and I are going to be… just fine.” 

“You promise?” 

Percy looked surprised. “Well, I can’t tell you the future,” he said. “I was never any good at Divination. But for the  _ foreseeable  _ future, yes, I promise.” He fixed George with a very odd look. 

“But… but you’re moving.”

Percy blinked. “Oh.  _ Oh.  _ No, sorry.  _ We’re  _ moving.”

“What?”

“Oliver and I. We’ve bought a house. Just outside of Hogsmeade.” 

“Oh. Oh, that… that’s  _ nice. _ ”

Percy hummed. “Mhm.” He nodded and then the two of them were quiet for a while. Eventually, Percy worked up the courage to say, “Can I ask you something?”

George nodded. 

“I’m… I’m really only wondering.” Percy hesitated. “Um… I just...  _ why  _ did you bring it up in the middle of dinner? I only mean to say –” 

“Just call me a prick, Perce.”

“No!”

“It’s what I deserve.” George sighed and sat back. “I know you don’t believe me about… you know. But I swear I’m not lying. I swear I really had just found out myself.” 

“Y-yeah,” Percy said, voice unsteady. 

“It’s no excuse, though. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry, Perce.” 

“About that, George –” 

Percy was cut off by the sound of the door opening. “Oh, hi!” Oliver greeted as he entered. “I didn’t know ye’d be visitin’ us today. How are ye, George?” 

“I –” George started. 

“Can I talk to you in the kitchen?” Percy interrupted, jumping out of his seat. “Sorry, George. I’ll just be a minute.” He darted out of the room, dragging Oliver along with him. 

They were gone a little longer than the minute that Percy promised, but it really wasn’t very long. They reappeared together and Oliver said, “I’m goin’ out to pick up the takeaway. D’ye like Chinese food?”

“I dunno,” George said, shrugging his shoulders. “Never been to China.” 

“George hasn’t tried very much Muggle food,” Percy told Oliver. 

“Right,” Oliver said. “Well, I guess I’ll have to get a wee bit of everything. Be back soon, then.” He pocketed his keys, kissed Percy on the cheek, and was on his way. 

“You were saying, George?” Percy said, settling back into his chair. 

“I’m just… I’m very sorry you had to find out about that in the middle of dinner, and in front of everyone.” 

“Oh, right.” Percy cleared his throat. “Um, well… I actually already knew about it.” 

George blinked. “What?” 

“Yes, Oliver told me. He  _ had not  _ told me that it happened again at the Quidditch World Cup – we  _ did  _ have a bit of a spat about that because – well, it doesn’t matter, really. But, yes, he told me about it last year.”

“You seemed so shocked at dinner.”

“Yes, well, I was. Shocked that…  _ that…  _ was brought up in front of our mother. I was mortified.”

George cringed. “Yeah, sorry again.” 

Percy just chuckled. “All’s forgiven.” He smiled and got quiet again for a few seconds, and then he said in a rush, “Oliver and I are getting married.” 

“What? Really?” 

Percy nodded, looking  _ nervous  _ of all things. 

“That’s brilliant, Percy!”

“You think so?”

“Of course, I do. Congratulations.” 

“Oh, I’m so glad. I’ve been trying to tell you since lunch. I’ve never been able to find the right moment.”

“Since lunch?” George frowned. “Oh.  _ Oh.  _ Since lunch. I’m sorry, Percy. I… oh, but that’s amazing. I’m so happy for you. When’s the wedding?”

“Thank you.” Percy smiled warmly and looked relieved. “We haven’t set a date. Sometime next summer.” 

George nodded. “That’s nice.”

Percy nodded back. He swallowed nervously. “Will you…” He shook his head. “I mean to say, would you like to be there?”

“Of course.”

“Because you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to. I promise. I’d love to be there.”

Percy smiled. “I was… I was planning to ask you all to be in my wedding party. Bill said yes, but I haven’t had the chance to ask anyone else just yet.” 

George blinked. “Really? After everything, you want  _ me  _ of all people –” 

“I don’t hold anything against you, George. This past week has been hard on all of us, and I’ve done my fair share of making things harder just like everyone else.”

“I don’t just mean the past week.” 

“Neither do I.” Percy shook his head. “I’m so done placing blame and being angry. I just… I just want to live.”

George nodded. “Me, too.” 

They sat in silence again, but it wasn’t tense anymore; no one was expectant anymore. They shared a look that said more than they ever could have done out loud. 

Eventually, Oliver got back. George and Percy jumped up to take some of the takeaway boxes off his hands. They spread them all out across the coffee table and moved their tea, which was getting cold. Oliver dropped his keys on a side table and kicked his shoes off under it while Percy popped into the kitchen and came back with plates and silverware. Percy and Oliver both recommended their favorite dishes to George and argued lightly over their differing opinions. In the end, they both agreed that the crab rangoon was to die for. 

“Oi, Wood,” George said once the three of them settled down to eat. “I’ve heard about the wedding. Congrats.” 

“Thank ye, thank ye,” Oliver said beaming. He turned and gave Percy a bemused sort of look; Percy just shrugged at him, smiling ever so slightly. 

George concluded that the crab rangoon was indeed the best of all the dishes Oliver had ordered for them as Percy and Oliver began to clear the boxes away. “I’ll help,” he said, getting to his feet.

“Nonsense,” Percy said and insisted he sit. He and Oliver cleared the food away and were back in a matter of minutes. Percy sat back down across from George.

Oliver lingered at the edge of the living room. “Er… I think I’ll go an’ fetch us all some ice cream, eh?” he said. He went to the side table near the door and then he left again. 

“So,” Percy said, shifting uneasily in his chair. “How are you feeling, George?”

“What?” George said nervously, Charlie’s voice echoing in the back of his mind. 

“Well, I’m just wondering… I mean, you were in quite a state back in McGonagall's. I’m just wondering how you’re doing now.” 

“I…” George nodded because he didn’t know what to say. “Don’t worry about me, Perce.”

“I do worry about you,” Percy said with a smile. “Everyday.” 

George sniffled. He had to blink back tears, determined not to cry in front of Percy for a third time that day. 

“You know,” Percy said, clearly trying to keep his tone bright. “You do not have to be okay after… after what  _ I assume  _ you saw this afternoon.” 

George shook his head. “You don’t wanna talk about it. You don’t have to.”

“I don’t.” Percy shook his head, too. Then, to George’s surprise, Percy laughed. “Merlin, I  _ really  _ don’t want to. But… but, if  _ you  _ want to… or if you  _ need  _ to…” He paused. He shook his head again. “I’m here for you, George. Whatever you need, okay?” 

George had to blink faster to keep his tears at bay. “Oh, Percy,” he said. “There is one thing that I really do need to tell you –” George was cut off by someone knocking very loudly on the door. He leaped to his feet, eyes wide. 

“It’s okay,” Percy assured him. “Oliver forgets his keys all the time.” 

George’s eyes flew to the empty side table by the door and he bolted from the room. He locked himself in the bathroom and pressed his back against the door, breath heavy. He wished Fred was with him. 

“Percy, have you heard from George at all?!” George could hear Bill yell, but he couldn’t make out Percy’s response. He tried to slow his breathing so that he’d be able to hear his brothers more clearly, but then Bill shouted “Where?! GEORGE!” 

George backed away from the door. He pressed himself flat against the opposite wall, his breath growing even heavier when the doorknob began to rattle.

“George?!” Bill cried. 

George still had a hard time hearing Percy over the sound of his own breath, but he was pretty sure that Percy had told Bill to calm down. 

“Okay, okay,” Bill said, much softer. “I’m – I’m sorry.  _ George… _ could I please – could I please just see you? I just want to see you for a moment.” 

George didn’t like it one bit, and he could hear Fred’s voice in the back of his head telling him that  _ he  _ didn’t like it  _ either.  _ George tried to shake Fred’s voice out of his head without very much success. 

After what felt like a very long time, George’s breath evened out and he reasoned that there was no other exit but the one with Bill and Percy on the other side. Bill  _ had  _ said that he only wanted to see him. George took a few deep, steadying breaths and crossed the bathroom. He wrenched the door open. “Yes?”

Bill breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, George. Thank Circe.” 

“What is it, Bill?” George sighed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. 

“You disappeared!” Bill cried. 

“ _ Bill, _ ” Percy said warningly. 

“What?” George said. “So I have to tell everyone everywhere I go now? Is that it?” 

“George,” Bill said in a very careful voice. “I just… I thought we agreed that you’d stay at home for the weekend.” 

“I said I’d go home. Who ever said I wasn’t allowed to leave?” 

“I didn’t say that –”

“You kinda did!” 

“George, I just…”

George raised his eyebrows expectantly. His breathing had grown heavy again. “You just  _ what? _ ” 

“You didn’t tell anyone you were leaving, and you just disappeared. Why are you here?”

“Why shouldn’t I be here?” George placed his hands on his hips to try and stop them from shaking. 

Bill looked at Percy and then back at George. “Okay,” he said. “Are you coming home this evening?”

“It’s Percy’s home.” George shrugged his shoulders. “I hardly know if I’m welcome to stay the night.” 

“Of course, you are,” Percy said quickly, then looked like he regretted having spoken. He avoided looking at Bill for as long as he could, but he finally met his older brother’s gaze and nodded curtly. “Of course,” he said again. “George is more than welcome to stay the night if he wants to. We have a second bedroom and everything.” 

Bill groaned. “ _ Okay.  _ So,  _ George.  _ Are you going to –” 

“I dunno.” George shrugged his shoulders. 

Bill looked less than pleased by the whole situation, but after looking back and forth between George and Percy for a long time, he finally nodded. “Fine,” he said. “I’m going to tell our parents that you’re all right. I do hope you’re not planning to skip Ginny’s birthday party.” 

George crossed his arms. “No. I’ll be there.”

“Percy, you should be there, too,” Bill said, and he managed a smile but it disappeared quickly. “I’ll be on my way, I suppose. See you both tomorrow. Percy, can I speak with you in the hallway for a moment? Please?”

Percy looked suspicious of this but he obliged and followed Bill to the hallway outside the flat all the same, leaving George to linger awkwardly outside the bathroom by himself for a while. 

Percy returned soon with a strained smile on his face. He looked a bit paler than he had before he went into the hallway. “Would you like some more tea?” he said. “I think it has been sitting too long – must be cold – I’ll make us more.” Then he disappeared into the kitchen. 

“Percy?” George called and chased after him. He found him making tea in a frantic fashion. “Percy, I –” he cut himself off and couldn’t have finished his thought even if he wanted to. It was gone as soon as George’s gaze fell on the kitchen window. “Percy?”

Percy turned one of the knobs on the stove in order to light it – it was a Muggle one, Arthur would have been fascinated – and after a few pathetic  _ clicks, _ a tiny fire erupted underneath the tea kettle. “Yes, George?” he said, satisfied now that the kettle was on. 

“What’s that?” 

Percy turned to George, eyebrows raised. He followed George’s line of vision to the window. “Um,” he said. “A  _ win _ –”

“Not the bloody window, Percy. The plant.”

Percy looked at the plant. “Oh,” he said and swallowed hard. He quickly turned to face the sink instead of his brother. “Um, yeah. That’s… my plant,” he said lamely. 

“It’s…” Then, to Percy’s great surprise, George began to cry again. 

Percy whipped back around, eyes wide. “Are you okay?” he asked, clearly not sure what he should do. 

“It’s – it’s one of  _ Neville’s  _ plants.” 

Percy frowned. “Yeah, George.” 

“He – he handed them out,” George said through tears. “The day after the B-Battle at Hogwarts.” 

“ _ I know,  _ George.” 

George cried for a little while longer. Then, wiping away his tears, he muttered something but he knew right away that he’d been too quiet and Percy hadn’t been able to make out what it was. (To Percy’s credit, he didn’t ask. He waited very patiently.)

“I thought there were only two left,” George repeated himself eventually. 

Percy blinked. “Oh?” 

George wiped his nose. “Mine. Mine’s alive.” 

“It is?” 

“And Charlie’s.” 

Percy looked like he tried to suppress his smile, but he couldn’t do it anyway. “Well, who would have guessed. None of us was particularly good at Herbology, either.”

George snorted. “Definitely not.”

“What have your biggest problems with it been?”

“Definitely figuring out how often to water it.” 

“Oh, Merlin, yeah. Can I ask how often  _ you  _ are watering it? I have such trouble with it.” 

“Well, I was doing every five and a  _ half  _ days _ ,  _ but then I asked Neville and he said to do every seven days. I’ve just started doing that, so we’ll see how it goes.” 

“All right. I’ve been doing eight. Maybe I should switch to seven.” 

“I can let you know how it goes. What’s your biggest issue with the thing been, then?” 

“Oh, the  _ rotating, _ ” Percy said. “It took me a while to figure that out. Do you know about the rotating?”

“Bloody rotating.” George rolled his eyes. “So stupid. How prissy does it have to be, really? It’s a plant!” 

“Have you ever gotten water on the leaves?”

“Mhm. What a mess that was.”

“I lost three leaves the first time it happened.”

“ _ Three? _ Merlin!” George shook his head. “Oh, last week –” He stopped himself. “Wait, where do you currently stand on the whole ‘Fred’s ghost’ situation?” he asked.

“I… um…” Percy looked entirely unsure what to say to that. “You can go on, George.”

George frowned slightly but nodded. “The morning he was first there with me, he accidentally made the plant fly off the window – well, he was having these sort of magical outbursts, you see – and it  _ hit the wall!  _ The pot shattered and it all fell on the floor. I had to repair the pot and then repot the plant. It was a mess. It’s still bouncing back, quite honestly.”

“It  _ survived  _ all that?! I’m pretty sure mine would have died on impact.” 

George laughed. “When it happened, I thought the same thing to myself. I’m still surprised it didn’t.” 

“It’s curious that Fred’s having magical outbursts, though,” Percy said, brow furrowing thoughtfully. “I’ve never heard of that happening. I’ve never heard of a ghost being able to use magic at all. Very curious, indeed.” 

“So you  _ do _ believe me, then?” George said, raised his eyebrows. “You’re sending me mixed signals here, Perce.” 

Percy looked at George for a long time before he finally nodded and told him, “Yes, I believe you.” 

George nodded slowly. “Can I ask what changed?” 

Percy stared at George for even longer this time, but George waited him out and eventually he cracked under the pressure of the air between them. “Do you remember how I said that I try very hard not to think about…” He swallowed hard. “About seeing Fred die?”

George frowned. “Yeah. But, Perce, I just wanna know what made you –”

“I’m no good at it. No good at all. But then, I’ve never been very good at  _ not thinking _ . I have a very difficult time not thinking about the things that I don’t want to think about.” 

George sunk into a seat at the kitchen table, hanging onto every word. 

“It’s like a recording on loop in my head, the way that I hear his last words when I’m trying to go to sleep at night, or when there’s a lull in a conversation and it gets quiet for a while. Oliver and I are always talking these days because neither of us can stand the quiet. So we  _ talk  _ – about anything, about  _ everything.  _ We talk about books and food and TV shows and  _ celebrities  _ – imagine me, gossiping about celebrities, but anything rather than silence. We talk about Quidditch, about Hogwarts, about family and friends, and… and  _ Fred. _ I talk about Fred a lot because I’d rather remember him as he was, alive, than relive him dying over and over in my mind.” 

“R-right. I agree. But, Percy,  _ what  _ –” 

“Sorry, sorry.” Percy shook his head. “I am getting there, truly. There was so much going on at dinner when you told me. I didn’t know what to make of it. And I was scared. But… but then when you said that Fred wanted to talk to me, and you –  _ he  _ – talked about Egypt. I just…” He paused to take a long, deep breath. “I’ve laid awake at night for three months wondering what he was going to say. I would have done anything just to know what Fred was about to say to me before he died. And then on Thursday night, you just told me in the middle of a sentence. Without even knowing you had done it.” 

“Oh…” George said, new tears spring to his eyes.  _ “Percy. _ ” He stood up, but Percy was the one to bound across the room and envelop George in a tight hug. George buried his face against Percy’s while Percy’s hand reached up to cradle the back of George’s head and they cried together. They were both so very sick and tired of crying, but they couldn’t seem to stop. They cried and cried and cried until Oliver appeared in the kitchen carrying three pints of ice cream. 

“What’d I miss?” he said, eyes wide as was possible. 

George and Percy laughed. 

The three of them ate ice cream and talked for hours. Percy seemed much more at ease after that, George noted. Of course, George knew that there was so much more that still hung in the air between them. There was so much more to say, only he wasn’t sure when the right time to say it was. 

“Could I use your shower?” George asked. 

“Yeah, absolutely,” Percy said. “Only let me show you how to turn it on. The knob is broken.” So he did, and he showed him where the towels were, and pointed out which soaps and shampoos were his own. “Oh, and this switch is for the fan. It’s  _ really  _ loud, so I’m sorry in advance.” 

George smiled. “Thanks for the tour, Perce.” 

“All right, yell if you need me.” 

“Percy?”

“Mm?”

“Could we talk later? Er – alone? I just mean – I just have something to – I don’t want to be rude to –” 

“Whatever you need, George,” Percy cut in. He reached out to hold George’s arm, but then he seemed to think better of it and pulled it back before he reached him. “Oliver goes to bed so early, anyway,” he added quickly with a roll of his eyes. “You know I hardly sleep. I’ve been in desperate need of someone to talk to after  _ nine o’clock _ .” He smiled, nodded. “Well, have a good shower.” Then he turned and left the room.

George kept his gaze down once Percy had gone, but still accidentally caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror before yanking the shower curtain shut. 

After he was done in the shower, he quickly dried himself off and got dressed. He left the bathroom as quickly as he could. 

Everyone had expected George to have trouble looking into mirrors after Fred died, but it didn’t bother him. It wasn’t as if  _ he  _ couldn’t tell the two of them apart. Walking past mirrors, catching them out of the corner of his eye, was quite a different story. 

George paused in the hallway. He didn’t want to walk into the middle of Percy and Oliver’s conversation because he knew that Percy would drop everything immediately when he saw George. 

“It’s not as if ye wouldn’t be back home every night,” Oliver was saying in a soft voice. “I could even come up an’ join ye for lunch some days. But only if it’s what  _ ye  _ want to do, Percy.”

“Well, they need someone to do it…”

“An’ they’ll find someone, whether it’s ye or not.” 

They fell quiet for a while and George decided it was as good a time as any to interrupt. “Well, that was lovely,” he said and Percy only looked panicked for a moment before he smiled.

“I’m glad,” he said. 

George settled onto the sofa and into Percy and Oliver’s newest topic of conversation: the quality of parchment. 

Percy was right. The clock had  _ barely  _ struck five-past-nine and Oliver was yawning and stretching his arms above his head. “I’m knackered,” he said. “Think I’ll head on off to bed. Don’t ye have too much fun without me, now.” He kissed Percy’s cheek. “G’night, George,” he added, and then he left. 

Percy smiled after him for a while, then finally looked back at George. “You wanted to talk about something alone, George?” 

George stared back at him for a long time. Finally, he said, “We should make some more tea.” 

“Yeah?” Percy said, eyebrows raised. “Okay.” 

“Or something stronger,” George said. “If you’ve got it.” 

“Afraid not. Neither of us drinks very much.” He shrugged. “Oh, well, I have got some weed, if you like.” 

George’s eyes lit up. “Percy Weasley, don’t tell me you smoke  _ marijuana. _ ” 

Percy snorted. “Yeah, George. I’m actually super cool now.” 

Percy and George both laughed. 

***

“Wait, so he had to  _ live it? _ ” Percy said as he passed the joint that they were sharing back to George. They were sat up on the roof of Percy and Oliver’s apartment building, watching Muggle nightlife in London race on below. The fresh air of the warm summer night seemed to do Percy, who was starting to look like he hadn’t seen the light of day in weeks, some good. He was certainly looking more relaxed, but then, that could have just been the drugs. 

“Mhmmm.” George took it and inhaled deeply, but found that it was no longer alight. “Shit, where’s my wand?”

“Dunno,” Percy said, his voice thick. “Here.” He picked up his own wand and lit a small flame in the air.

“Cheers.” George lit the end of the joint on the small fire and inhaled deeply once more as the flame disappeared.

“That’s shit,” Percy said.

“What?” George asked, blowing smoke out of his mouth. He took another hit. 

“That Fred had to live it –”

“Right, that’s what we were talkin’ about!” George handed the joint back to Percy. “So, yeah, I get outta the Pensieve and he tells me he’s just lived it. He couldn’t remember it, see – dunno if I’ve told you – but he’d seen it now in the… Pensieve… um…”

“You’re high,” Percy laughed. 

George laughed, too. “Oh, this is quite serious actually.” 

“S’pose we shouldn’t have gotten quite so high, then.” Percy laughed even harder. “Too late.” 

George laid back on the roof and laughed at the stars. “Too right, Perce,” he said. Then, softer, “ _ Perce. _ ” 

“ _ George? _ ” Percy mocked him. 

“Percy, Fred’s ghost is gone.” 

Percy stopped laughing immediately. He frowned very deeply. “‘Cause you saw it?” 

George nodded. “‘Cause I saw it.” 

“Shit.” 

“There’s more.”

“Right.” Percy looked quite stressed all of a sudden. 

“It’s only that…” George sat back up. He sighed. “It’s only that before he disappeared, he asked me to tell you… that he forgives you, too.” 

Percy nodded several times, and George wasn’t entirely sure what that meant until Percy burst into tears and surged forward to hug George. They hugged for a long, long time. Neither wanted to let go. But, eventually, they picked themselves up from the ground and they stumbled back down to the apartment. 

The two of them flopped down on the couch, trying to keep their laughter to a minimum but failing miserably. 

“Ollie’s a heavy sleeper, anyways,” Percy said, waving his hand. 

George turned to face Percy, one hand tucked under his chin. “How’d you and Wood meet?”

“We were in the same year at school, George. You know that.” 

“ _ I know that.  _ I mean how did you  _ meet? _ ” 

“Oh.” Percy flushed. “Well. Quidditch World Cup, sort of.” 

“No!” George gasped. “But that night –”

“Yes, well, it’s not like he asked me out that afternoon,” Percy said, eyes fluttering shut. “But that’s where it all started. He told me he was looking for a flat mate that afternoon. That’s how we ended up living together, and that’s how we ended up...” He trailed off yawned. 

“You’re falling asleep, Perce.”

Percy hummed. 

“Go to bed, Perce.”

Percy hummed again. “C’mon, I’ll show you the spare room.” It took him a little while longer to get up, but when he did he got some extra blankets from the linen closet and showed him to the bedroom across the hall from his and Oliver’s. “Wake me if you need anything, okay?”

George nodded. “Thank you.”

“George.”

“Perce.”

“I’m so sorry that Fred’s gone… again.” 

George looked down at his feet and sniffled. “Thanks,” he said. A few moments later he looked back up and met Percy’s gaze. “I’ve missed you.” 

Percy looked like he was going to cry again for a second, but he blinked back his tears quickly. “I’ve missed you, too.” He reached out and held George’s arm for a long time, then dropped his hand. “Goodnight, George.”

“G’night, Perce,” George said as Percy left, closing the door behind him. George climbed into bed, wrapping the blankets that Percy had given to him tightly around himself and settled down for the night. 

For the briefest moment, it struck George to panic about what he might see when he fell asleep. Anything could happen, especially now, but he didn’t have long before sleep took him and he was swept away into the world of his dreams. 

***

_ There was a lot of white light surrounding George  _ –  _ enough that he thought it had blinded him until he saw Fred approaching from the distance. At least, he thought it was Fred at first. As he grew closer, though, he recognized a familiar glint in the man’s eyes that did not belong to George’s twin brother.  _

_ “Not Fred,” George murmured.  _

_ “You got me,” he said, holding his hands up as if in surrender.  _

_ “What… what do you want?” George’s voice came out sounding much more tired than he had meant for it to, but he couldn’t do much to help it. His whole body felt like it was sinking into the floor.  _

_ Not Fred reached out a hand and George tried to flinch away from it, but he was sinking, sinking, sinking. Not Fred held George’s face as he sank lower and lower. “You did it,” he said, smiling.  _

_ George’s vision grew blurry. Not Fred swam in and out of view as more and more black spots appeared in front of George’s eyes.  _

_ “You  _ saw  _ it _ ,  _ Georgie _ .”

_ George grimaced because it only sounded right when Fred said it, but he was still sinking fast. He sank all the way into the floor, then deeper and deeper into the darkness  _ –

– until he woke up in a cold sweat, chest heaving. It took everything he had not to cry out for Fred, for Percy, for anyone. It took everything he had not to scream. 

***

George felt much better in the morning. After he had been woken in the night by his very own night terrors, and after he had cried for some time, he had fallen back asleep and his nightmares seemed to decide he deserved a break. A few hours of some good, restful sleep did wonders for him. 

The sun had already risen well above the horizon, he noticed when he glanced out the bedroom window. He headed out into the hallway. He heard two voices coming from the kitchen and tiptoed closer, listening from outside first to make sure it was safe for him to enter.

“What’s your point?”

“Perce,  _ my point  _ is ye’d be damn good at it, and as far as I can tell ye sound like ye wanna do it. I don’t think it’d be a  _ bad  _ thing for ye to have somethin’ to keep ye busy when I start tourin’ again. I think it’d be good for ye.” 

Percy sighed heavily. “Then why were you so insistent that could find someone else to –”

“‘Cause if I’m readin’ ye wrong… I don’t wanna accidentally talk ye into doin’ somethin’ ye really don’t wanna do.”

“No, I…” Percy sighed again, soft this time. “I do. I want to.” 

There was a moment of silence. “Well, I think that settles it then.” 

George didn’t expect Oliver to walk out of the room a few moments later. His eyes were wide as they came face to face. 

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but then his face softened and he smiled. “Mornin’,” he whispered. “Go on in. He could do with the company.” He headed off for a shower. 

“George!” Percy cried when George entered the kitchen. “Good morning. I didn’t realize you were up. Would you like some breakfast?”

George nodded. “Thanks.”

“Are scrambled eggs and toast okay? I’m afraid I didn’t get Mum’s cooking skills. Oh, we might have some of those  _ frozen  _ sausages. Muggles have some really creative inventions, you know, George.” 

George smirked, sinking into a seat at the kitchen table. “You sound like Dad right now,” he said. “You know that, right?”

Percy rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the way the corners of his mouth turned up a little bit. “Yes, well…” he trailed off as he was digging through the freezer. “Aha!” Clearly, he had found the sausages. 

The two of them didn’t talk at first. Percy preheated the oven, then he whisked the eggs and poured them into a pan. He popped the toast into the toaster oven (“I know, I know, but Dad’s really been right all along.  _ Amazing  _ things – Muggles make some truly incredible things!”). The stove beeped and Percy was setting the frozen sausages, laid in a row on a sheet, on the top rack of the oven when George finally asked, “Why were you at Hogwarts, Percy?”

Percy shut the oven and turned to look at George with a furrowed brow. “Pardon?”

“McGonagall said she was going to do an interview in her old office when she left, and when she came back she had you with her.” George frowned. “I also overheard you and Wood talking this morning. Sorry.” 

Percy shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I – er – well, yes, I am – um –” He paused to scratch the back of his head awkwardly. After a few long moments of silence, he sighed heavily, nodded, and said as firmly as he could, “Professor McGonagall needed to fill one more vacancy on her staff. I’m taking a faculty position. Just for the year, until she can find someone better suited for the job.”

George fixed him with a long, hard look. “You’re gonna be a professor?” he said at long last. 

“Y-yes,” Percy said uncertainly, worried by the look that George was now giving him. “Professor Binns has finally decided to retire. Everyone seems really surprised but… I don’t know. I suppose when you have taught through as many wars as he has and you are the only one, it’s difficult for those around you to understand when, you know… Enough’s enough.” 

“You’re teaching  _ History of Magic? _ ” 

Percy swallowed hard. “Yeah.” 

“But – but what about the Ministry?”

Percy released a shaky breath. “A-after the war ended, I asked to be transferred off of the Minister's personal team. Kingsley gave me a nice, steady job. I’ve been the Head of the Department of Transportation for a few months and… well, you know, I like it enough, but it’s not…” He shrugged. “Anyhow, I went to work on Friday and I was already thinking quite a lot about what you had said on Thursday, about your last year at school. It added insult to injury, really, having a meeting with all of the Heads of Departments and the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic.”

George raised his eyebrows. “Okay?”

“That’s Umbridge.”

“ _ Oh, _ ” George said darkly. 

“She was at the head of the table and just  _ talking,  _ and  _ talking,  _ in that awful voice of hers – all I could hear was your voice in my head, though. What you said. What she did to you. All of you.” Percy’s eyes drifted over to where George’s hand laid on the table, white scars barely visible from the other side of the room, but he quickly averted his gaze and went on. “It’s been a while since I believed the Ministry could do no wrong, and obviously I  _ knew  _ that she was still working there, but being there in the room with her, after all that’s happened… It didn’t feel right. So, I just tried not to draw attention to myself, you know? Lie low. She didn’t have very many questions about my department, anyhow. But then she got around to the Head of the Department of Magical Education. Then she was talking about  _ Hogwarts  _ and I… I…”

George blinked. “Did you _ quit, _ Perce?” 

Percy hesitated, his face going beet red. “I, um… I sort of…  _ snapped. _ ” 

“What do you mean you ‘snapped’?”

Percy looked even more embarrassed. “I, um…” he said again, keeping his eyes on his feet. “One second I was sitting there, just trying to get through the meeting, and then the next thing I knew my chair was knocked over and I was yelling at her and I – I just fled. I stormed out.”

It was silent for a moment and then George laughed. “That’s brilliant!” he said. 

Percy looked up to meet his eye. “It was horribly unprofessional.” But he smiled, just a little bit. “She deserved it, though. She deserved every second of it.”

“Too true,” George agreed and got lost in thought for a moment, but he shook his head. “But a  _ professor. _ Wow.” 

“Yes, well, I need to do  _ something,  _ and as I said, it’s only for the year. Who knows if I’ll even be any good at it.”

“Shut up, you’re gonna be great. I’ll bet McGonagall asks you to come on permanently by Christmas.”

“Before Christmas? No, surely not… Before Easter, maybe.” 

They laughed.

Percy returned to making breakfast, pulling the sausages from the oven and buttering the toast. Oliver returned soon and the three of them fell into easy conversation while they ate. For the first time in a long time, George felt (mostly) at peace.

Between the time they finished breakfast and the time they had to leave to get to the party on time, Percy decided that he wasn’t going approximately eleven times. Every time, George and Oliver would talk him back into it, but every time, Percy would circle back around. 

“It’s Ginny’s party. She won’t want me there. It’s her birthday – her  _ seventeenth  _ birthday – and I won’t ruin that for her.” 

George finally convinced him to come once and for all when he reminded Percy that he would be teaching one of Ginny’s top subjects at Hogwarts in the coming school year, and told him that it would be best if Ginny learned that from him directly. (Whether or not George actually believed this, he himself was unsure, but it persuaded Percy to come to the party at least.)

Percy insisted they be ready extra early so that they had time for him to stop somewhere and get Ginny a birthday present. “Oh!” he cried. “But I don’t have any idea what to get her! I haven’t lived with her since she was twelve… Oh, George, what does she like?” 

George shrugged. “Money?”

Percy scoffed. “That’s far too impersonal. Let’s go to the Quidditch supply shop.”

Oliver popped his head into the room, having been walking by. “Why’re we goin’ to the Quidditch shop?” he asked excitedly.

“Ginny’s birthday present,” Percy said, then turned back to George. “Does she like the broom she has? Could she do with a new one?”

George raised his eyebrows. “You’re gonna get her a  _ new broom? _ ” 

“A man after my own heart,” Oliver sighed as he began preparing a cup of coffee for himself. 

“I don’t know, maybe,” Percy said. “Why? Should I not? Does she really like the one she’s got? What about a polishing kit?” 

“No, no, I just – I just thought it sort of a big gift, but I mean, if you want to.” 

Percy smiled. “It’s a very important birthday, after all.” 

George chuckled. “And you wanna get back in her good graces.”

“I don’t know that anything can help me there, but I doubt this could hurt.” 

“That’s for sure. Pretty sure she still rides Charlie’s old Clean Sweep.” 

Oliver choked on a sip of his coffee, spluttering as George and Percy both looked his way. “Ginny gets to use  _ Charlie Weasley’s  _ old broom?”

George laughed at him. “Wood, you’re on a pro-team.  _ You’re better than Charlie. _ ” 

Oliver smiled. “Ye flatter me, George. Thank ye. But Charlie’d be playing for England right now if that’s what he wanted – man’s a legend.” 

***

When George, Percy, and Oliver walked up to the house, Percy started to get very nervous again. Since he had insisted that they leave the apartment so very early, the three of them had made it to the Quidditch supply shop and to Burrow with more than enough time to spare. The party had not yet begun and there was no crowd of guests for Percy to hide himself in. “M-maybe I should g–” 

“ _ No, _ ” George and Oliver said together.

“I’m gonna go talk to Ginny,” George said. “Just wait in the kitchen, yeah?” 

Percy still looked unsure. He shifted the long, slender box under his arm. They had been kind enough to gift wrap the box at the Quidditch shop. (It took Percy ten minutes to choose which color to have it wrapped in.)

Charlie, Bill, Ron, and Arthur were talking in low voices when the three of them entered the house, but stopped as soon as they all laid eyes on –

“George!” Charlie bounded across the kitchen and threw his arms around George. 

“All right, Charlie,” Bill said as if he hadn’t come close to tearing Percy’s bathroom door off of its hinges when looking for George the day before. 

George hugged Charlie closer – not just because he wanted to annoy Bill at that moment, but that was definitely an added bonus. 

“Are you okay?” Charlie whispered in his ear. “What’s  _ he  _ doing here?”

“Percy’s with me,” George whispered back quickly. “I’m all right.” 

Charlie pulled away, holding George at arm's length and taking his appearance in. “Okay,” he said eventually. He nodded curtly to Percy and Oliver, and then went back to talking to Arthur. 

“I’ll go talk to Ginny now,” George told Percy. “Be back in a bit.” 

Percy nodded.

“George, did you say you’re looking for Ginny?” Ron said. 

“Yeah.”    
“C’mon with me. She’s in my room.” 

Indeed, Ginny was up in Ron’s room. She, Luna, and Neville were laughing with Harry, as well as Hermione, who appeared to have gotten over how upset she had been with Ron and Harry. George was pleasantly surprised to see Harry tell a joke and Ginny punch his arm, throwing her head back and laughing as he entered the room; clearly, Harry’s help on Thursday was enough to move the two of them past the awkward stage they’d been trapped in for weeks. 

“Ginny, could I talk to you alone for a minute?” George asked. 

She wasn’t happy when he told her, but she heard him out and, as he expected, she softened when he told her that Fred forgave him. “Well,” she grumbled. “I suppose if  _ you’re  _ all right with him, Fred…”

“Oh, um...” George swallowed hard. “Fred’s, um… Fred’s gone.” 

Ginny’s eyes got wide. “What? But I thought he was – but I – where’d he go?” 

George got flustered, trying to find the right words to say, and Ginny quickly amended. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. You don’t have to talk about it.”

“I will tell you later, okay? I’m sorry I brought Percy without asking you first, I just –”

“It’s fine. If you forgive him, and Fred forgives him then…” Ginny trailed off, but eventually, she nodded and said again, “It’s fine.” 

George smiled softly. “Thanks, Gin.” 

“You need anything else?” 

“Nah, I’m gonna head back downstairs since everyone there thinks I’m a flight risk now.” 

Ginny rolled her eyes. “You should’ve seen the house last night. They were being stupid. All of them.”

George chuckled. 

“Well, I’ll see you in a bit. I’ll be down soon.” She headed back into Ron’s room. 

George went down a couple of flights of stairs and was about to descend the last set when he passed one room and heard crying coming from inside. He frowned, brow furrowing deeply as he realized that it was  _ his  _ room that the crying was coming from. His door was open just slightly. He pushed the door open slowly, doing his best not to alert whoever was inside. 

Molly was leaning over George’s bed, weeping when she caught the sound of the door creaking ever so slightly and she whipped around. She quickly wiped her eyes. “O-oh, George, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

George’s eyes were drawn to the stark white parchment held delicately in her right hand. 

“I’m sorry,” Molly said again and dropped it on the bed. “I’m sorry, I – I was only – I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

“Don’t go,” George said before he realized he wanted to. 

Molly froze in place. 

“What were you doing with that list?” George tried not to look upset.

This time, Molly spoke in a very faint voice. “I – I was only looking for one of his sweaters.” 

George stared at her for a little while, not entirely sure what to do with that statement. In the end, he crossed to the box of sweaters that he had decided not to keep and held them out. “There’s six or seven of them in there. You can do what you like with them. I’ve got plenty of others.” 

Molly took the box. She couldn’t seem to get her hands to stop shaking even once she had hold of it. “Thank you, George,” she said softly.

“No problem,” George said, almost as quietly as Molly had. “What were you doing with the list?” he asked again. 

Molly’s bottom lip trembled. She didn’t answer right away, but eventually, she said, “You and Fred started switching places when you were six years old.”

George raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“You know, when you would try to convince us all that you were Fred, and he was George. Or when you’d make it so that we couldn’t tell who was who.”

“Only ‘cause you all couldn’t tell us apart anyway.”

“At times, yes, but Charlie always could. Charlie was only home during the summer and Christmas by that time, though.”

“Okay, but what does all of this have to do with the bloody list, Mum?” 

“I’m getting there, I’m getting there. Well, I didn’t know what I was going to do to tell you apart at the time. You were hellbent on confusing us, and you wouldn’t do it for a couple of hours like you did when you were school-aged. You would do it for  _ days. _ But I’d always need you to write your names down for something at some point – usually a birthday card or something like that. The only thing you couldn’t mimic was handwriting.”

There was a beat of silence. 

“Oh,” George said. 

“You have very different handwriting.” Molly’s eyes drifted to the parchment on the bed but snapped quickly back up at George. “Charlie and Bill sat me and your father down last night. They told us everything they know about... Fred’s ghost. Then I saw…” She looked down at the list, then back up at George. “I still don’t really understand what’s happening, but… but I’m sorry.” 

George didn’t know what to say to that so he just nodded. “Fred’s gone now,” he said because he wanted it known. No more secrets. 

Molly looked surprised but she nodded. “I see,” she said. Then, after a few moments’ pause, “I’m sorry, dear,” she added. 

“I think it’s okay.” George couldn’t seem to stop looking at the list, himself. “I think he’s in a better place, now.” He finally forced himself to look directly at his mother. “Fred said that…. Mum, Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon came to get him when he went.” 

Molly sniffled once, then twice, then she dropped the box of sweaters and surged forward to wrap her arms tightly around George as she began to wail. George hugged her back tenderly for a minute or so but soon pulled away. “I’m gonna move out,” he told her. “Next week.”

“What?” Molly said tearfully. “Why? Oh, Georgie, you really don’t have to. You know that you can live here as long as you like.” She was quiet for a few moments and then she caught herself. “Oh, dear, I’m sorry. You didn’t want me calling you…”

George frowned. “It’s just that only Fred and me did it. But, right before he disappeared, Fred said he didn’t mind if I wanted you to.” 

Molly blinked. “Do you want me to?” 

George thought about this. “Why did you start?” 

“I didn’t realize I ever stopped.” 

George frowned. “Mum, you  _ had  _ to have realized only me and Fred called each other that?”

Molly sighed and picked the box back up. “Anyway,” she said, expertly avoiding the question. “Guests will be arriving any moment, and Charlie needs to get going in an hour or so.” She hurried off before George could say anything more. 

George sighed. “Baby steps, I s’pose,” he muttered as if there was someone else there to hear it. Then he picked up the list, and a quill and ink, and wrote:

_ 8 _ _ It only hurt for a second _

He stood for a while and looked at the contrast between Fred’s and his. 

***

Soon enough, the party was in full swing. Molly piled everyone’s plates as high as she could manage as soon as they were over the threshold. There were more guests at Ginny’s party than there had been at Harry’s party, which was convenient since Percy still wanted to hide from a few of his family members. George stuck with Percy and Oliver early on in the party, but when the partygoers were gathered to see Ginny open her watch and Percy was still determined to linger at the back, George parted ways with them and pushed toward the front of the crowd in time to see Ginny trying to get the box open. 

Ginny pulled the watch from inside by its chain. The watching crowd caught a glimpse of gold that glittered in the sunlight. Ginny laid the watch down in her palm and stared into the face of it, apparently unsure what to make of it just yet. 

A few moments of silence was enough to make Molly anxious. “It was my mother’s watch,” she said quickly and Ginny looked up at her as she rushed on, “I have  _ my  _ grandmother’s watch, you see, and my mother told me from that day on that hers would be left to me when she passed. For my daughter. For a while, I didn’t know if I would ever have a daughter to give it to one day – and my mother said the same. Then you came along and – oh, I know you never really got to know her, but your grandmother was just so pleased when you were born. She and I were so happy that her watch would go to you one day.” 

Ginny looked down at the watch, back up at Molly, and then she threw her arms around her mother and they hugged for a long time. 

After, Ginny insisted they move onto cake instead of the rest of her gifts so that Charlie had time to have some before he had to go. Party guests lined up to get a slice of Molly’s expertly crafted, homemade birthday cake. George, Percy, and Oliver were chatting idly at the end of the line when Lee and Angelina fell into line behind them and greeted them energetically. 

“ _ You’re gonna ask Angelina Johnson on a fucking date ‘cause I don’t care what you say, I know you’re in love with her! _ ” Fred’s voice rang in George’s ears, but he quickly pushed the thought to the back of his mind and resolved to confront that later on. For now, he asked Lee to meet him at the shop on Tuesday and told him he had something important to discuss. 

After cake, Ginny and the Weasleys broke off from their party guests to say goodbye to Charlie. George told Percy to come with them, but Percy argued that Charlie would hardly want him there. George dragged him along anyway, shouting to Oliver over his shoulder to let him know that they would be back shortly. Percy still looked unsure, but he didn’t struggle or try to get away. With his wrist caught tightly in George’s hand, he jogged behind him to the front of the house. 

Molly hugged Charlie for much longer than was necessary and Charlie found himself having to pry himself from her grasp. He hugged everyone else for a much shorter stretch of time, but he held onto George for a little longer than the rest of them. “Be good,” he whispered in George’s ear right before he let go. 

“Charlie,” Percy said, stretching out an arm to shake his hand. 

Charlie rolled his eyes at him, taking his outstretched hand and pulling him into a quick hug. He said something quietly to Percy that the rest of them couldn’t hear, then turned back to the rest of the Weasleys. “Well, I should be go–”

“Wait!” Percy cried very suddenly, earning himself a wide-eyed look from Charlie. “S-sorry, Charlie, I just – I’ve got something to ask you. All of you.” He waited for his family’s approval, but when they said nothing he just went on. “I, um… I’m sorry about how things have gone the past week. I’ve been quite nervous to see you all because I…” He steeled himself and pushed on. “I wanted to ask if you’ll be in my wedding party.” 

Molly already had tears in her eyes. Bill and Arthur caught each other’s eyes. George waited with bated breath. 

“You and Wood are getting married?” Charlie said at last, eyebrows raised. 

Percy nodded quickly.

“Wow,” Ron breathed. “Congratulations.”

Ginny cracked a smile. “Yeah, Wood’s cool,” she said. “I’ll be glad to have him in the family.” She paused, then finally met Percy’s gaze. “Yes. I’ll be in your wedding party.” 

Ron and Charlie echoed that they would, as well, and Molly couldn’t take it any longer; she burst into tears and pulled as many of her children into a bone-crushing hug as she could. They all folded into a group hug and held onto each other until Molly was finished crying. 

“Oh, my babies,” she sniffled when they all let go of one another, regarding each of them with a watery smile. 

“Hate to ruin the moment,” Charlie said. “But I really must be off.” 

The Weasleys helped Charlie gather his things that had been left on the ground. Charlie had a duffle bag slung over one shoulder and box with all of his plants nestled inside (“Most of my stuff’s still at my place in Romania – I’m  _ not forgetting anything,  _ Mum. Give it a rest.”) and he was ready to go. His eyes twinkled when he smiled at them, waving his hand one last time. Then Charlie turned on the spot and disappeared. 

There was a  _ CRACK!  _ and then a small explosion as something purple and green burst and flew in all directions through the air. The remanents of Charlie’s African Violet rained to the ground where they landed, still and pathetic. 

George was excited to get back to the party, eager for another slice of cake when something heavy but gentle landed on his shoulder. He looked up to find Bill smiling into his face. 

“Ready for that talk now?” he asked. 

George was not, but he figured he might as well get it over with, so he followed Bill up to his old room. They sat on the bed and just looked at each other for a while. 

“So,” Bill said at long last but didn’t seem to have anything more to say.

“So,” George echoed. 

Bill fixed George with an odd look that he couldn’t place, as per usual. Eventually, Bill asked, “How are you feeling?”

George huffed. “Not this again.”

“I just mean today,” Bill said quickly. “How are you feeling today?”

George leaned back a little. He shrugged. “Fine. Better than yesterday, I s’pose.” 

Bill winced. “Yes, um,” he said and then paused to clear his throat. “About that. The way that I acted last night...” 

“Not what I meant, actually,” George said, then raised his eyebrows. “But, go on.” 

Bill frowned. “I was out of line. I’m very sorry, George.”

George allowed Bill’s words to hang in the air for a short while, but then he smiled at him and said, “Very well. Apology accepted.”

Bill smiled back, relieved. “So what  _ were  _ you talking about, then? What happened yesterday?”

George was a little more hesitant to tell Bill, but he shook himself.  _ No more secrets. _

“Fred’s gone.”

Bill’s easy smile turned back into a frown and he leaned in, resting his elbows on his knees. “What do you mean ‘gone’?”

“Well,  _ dead,  _ for one,” George quipped. “I mean that he’s not…  _ ‘haunting me’…  _ anymore.” 

Bill obviously didn’t know how to answer that right away, so it took him a minute before he asked, “What happened?”

George heaved a heavy sigh and, without a word of warning to Bill, he dove right into the story – the full thing, from beginning to end, for the very first time. He told Bill about the nightmares, and about Not Fred telling him that he wanted to see how Fred died. He told Bill about Fred arriving on a Thursday morning, and about thinking it was a dream, and about the plant. He told Bill about breakfast on the first morning, and all about how they stayed up until the wee hours of the morning. He told Bill about having to tell Fred that the shop wasn’t opened, and their fight about that. He detailed the events of Harry’s party to him, and two days’ worth of fights that ensued from there. He talked about the talk they had after George got back from lunch, as well as about the two days’ worth of conversations that followed. He talked about reaching a breaking point – about not being able to keep it all in any longer – about  _ snapping.  _ He talked about realizing that Fred was relying on George to help him move on just as much as George was relying on Fred to help him mourn. He talked about asking Percy for the memory, and about going to Hogwarts, and about McGonagall’s theory, and about going into the Pensieve. George paused to draw a shaky breath, then told Bill about the moment in the Pensieve, before he watched Fred die when Fred turned to look at him. He told Bill about their conversation afterward, about Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon, and about the burst of light that filled the room when Fred went. 

Bill listened to all of this very patiently, and softly whispered, “Wow,” when it was evident that George was finished with his tale. He didn’t say anything else right away. 

Of all things, George felt a sharp pang of guilt in his chest as his thoughts turned to Charlie. Charlie, who had been by his side for the past three and a half months, who had offered to listen to all that George needed to say at every turn. 

As if sensing that George was in turmoil, Bill chose that moment to tell him, “I’m very sorry about Fred, and I know now must be a hard time for you, but I hope you know that you did so well. You’ve been through so much, and you are so strong, George.” 

George tried to say something but couldn’t find the words. He wound up crying instead, and he was getting really sick of crying so much. He’d cried more in the last twenty four hours than he had the day after Fred died. A voice in his head that he couldn’t place supplied that this made sense because of what he now knew about the cats, but that only made him cry even harder. 

George didn’t realize that Bill had moved until he was sitting next to him and pulling him into a tight hug. George buried his face in Bill’s shoulder and thought of Charlie telling him that Bill had a special place among them as the Oldest. 

Sometime later, when George was quiet and still in his arms, Bill spoke softly. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t trust you,” he said. “I just need to know that you’re going to be okay.” 

George sighed, wiping his eyes. “I get it, but you’re treating me differently and it isn’t fair. Charlie took time off work and moped around the house for three months, too.” 

Bill frowned. “Well... Charlie didn’t take time off work because of Fred.” 

George matched his frown. “What do you mean? Of course, he did.” 

“George,” Bill said cautiously. “After we talked at the end of May I was worried about you, so I spoke with Charlie about it. And… well… in the end, Charlie thought it would be best if he took some time out of work to stay home with you.” 

The back of George’s neck got hot as he let Bill’s words sink in. “Wh...what?” 

“Do you remember anything that you said to me that night?” 

George racked his brains for something,  _ anything,  _ but it wasn’t there. He remembered they started drinking, but he couldn’t even remember what they had talked about early in the night. It had been  _ weeks  _ ago. The longer he thought about it, the less he seemed to be able to remember from that night. The longer he thought about, the more he seemed to think about anything but; he thought of Fred showing up, and all of his walks with Charlie through the woods, and his nightmares. He thought of the careful way that Bill and Charlie seemed to talk to him these days, and he thought of Bill showing up at Percy’s apartment in a panic when George disappeared. He thought of the agonizing moment between sleeping and waking, and of asking Fred to take George with him. 

“I don’t wanna say it,” George said in a small voice. 

Bill was quiet for a moment, but he nodded. “We don’t have to say it out loud.” 

George looked up into his big brother’s face. “What happens now?” 

Bill raised his eyebrows slightly. “What do you  _ want  _ to happen?” he asked. “Three-month plan, remember?” 

“You’re not gonna toss me in a ward?”

Bill sighed. “I was never going to toss you in a ward. None of us would. I just wanted you to talk with a professional. I still do. But I see now, I have to let you come to that decision on your own.”

George hesitated. “Can I… Can I talk to someone without staying overnight? Like, a once a week kinda deal?”

“Of course.” Bill nodded. “If that’s what you want. I think that sounds like a great plan.”

“And I’m going to open the shop.”

Bill looked surprised by this, but he accepted it without any questions or argument. The two of them had been gone from the party for well over an hour, and the smell of Molly’s cooking was wafting up the stairs. Bill resolved that they could talk more another time, even offering to help plan the shop’s re-opening. 

George and Bill headed downstairs and found that Ginny had just finished opening her gifts. She was fumbling for words, unable to take her eyes off of the sleek new broomstick she was holding. “I don’t know what to say – I mean, this is – I don’t know how to –  _ thank you! _ ” 

Apparently, Percy didn’t know what to say, either, because he just started rattling off facts about the broom that he had learned that day in the Quidditch supply shop. 

Soon after, most everyone was outside ready to see Ginny try out her new broom for the first time, but she started splitting everyone up into Quidditch teams before she kicked off. “Wait a second,” she said. “Let’s try playing girls vs. boys.” 

Ron’s face went pale. “No! You’ll pummel us!” 

“Yeah, that’s the fun part,” Ginny said with a shit-eating grin and the rest of the girls agreed. Ginny appointed herself as captain of one team, and asked Oliver to be captain of the other. 

“Me?” he asked, surprised. 

“Yeah, you’re family now, aren’t you?” Ginny said. “Percy, you’ve gotta play again, too.” 

Oliver’s face paled. “How d’ye expect me to have any chance at winnin’ with Percy on my team?” 

“Hey!” Percy said. 

“I’ll take on someone who’s never played,” Ginny reasoned. “Granger?” 

“I’ve played Quidditch before!” Hermione cried. 

“Yeah. Once. And you were bad. Though I suppose it was our fault, making you  _ Beater.  _ Are you in or not? You can play Chaser this time.”

Hermione grumbled at Ginny, but she agreed. 

Ginny asked Luna if she wanted to play Chaser again, but instead, she said, “Ooooh, actually, can try keeping the ball  _ out  _ of the hoops this time?” So Luna was playing Keeper, Ginny appointed Angelina and Katie Bell to be the other two Chasers, she picked Fleur and Alicia Spinnett to be her Beaters, and she was to be her own Seeker. (“I’m coming for you, Potter!” she shouted at Harry playfully. He laughed.)

“Right,” Oliver said, seemingly nervous at the sight of Ginny’s time. “Er – shame Charlie’s gone – right… uh... Perce?”

Percy hummed. 

“What can ye actually play?” 

“ _ Not Keeper, _ ” George, Ron, and Harry all chimed in quickly. 

Percy rolled his eyes.

Oliver chortled. “I’ll be Keeper,” he said. “What about Chaser?”

They all agreed that this seemed fair, and between playing Chaser, Beater, or Seeker, Percy found this preferable. Oliver made Dean and Ron the other two Chasers, Harry was Seeker, and George and Bill were Beaters. “Look’s like we’ve got ourselves a team. Ye know, I think we might just stand a chance.”

They didn’t. They did put up a good fight – Oliver was a brilliant Keeper, and even out of practice Harry was a damn good Seeker – but Angelina and Katie already knew all of Wood’s best moves, and Hermione wasn’t as awful at being a Chaser as she had been at being a Beater. Not to mention, Luna caught on to playing Keeper as quickly as she caught on to playing Chaser; she hardly let in any goals from the other team at all. In the end, Ginny snatched the Snitch from where it hid behind Harry’s ear with a smirk. 

They all came down, laughing and chattering together, and piled into the house for more food. 

Sometime later, George slipped away. It had been a long day – a long  _ week  _ – and he needed rest. There would be plenty of time to spend with his family and friends in the future – he was sure of that now. He climbed the steps to the first landing slowly and closed his bedroom door behind him with a tired sigh. 

George stood and stared around the room for a while. His eyes lingered on his window for longer than usual, and he puzzled at it. Something was wrong with it, he could tell. He just couldn’t tell what it was right away. Slowly, he drew nearer to it. 

The petals of the Death Plant still maintained their shape, more or less, but their texture was like that of an old person’s hands – crepey and shrivelled up. The stems sagged over the edge of the pot. The leaves, once velvety and green, were dark and burned. 

For a moment, it was as if George was frozen in place, unable to move. Subconsciously, he cursed himself for calling it the Death Plant.

Then it felt like his blood was rushing back to his limbs and he cried out in anguish as he bounded forward, taking hold of the pot and hugging it tightly to his chest as he sunk to the floor and wept for a long time. He cried for longer than he knew that it was possible for one to do. He cried until he truly could not do so any longer; until he hadn’t a tear left to shed. Then he pushed the Death Plant (“ _ Fuck _ , don’t call it that,” he croaked to himself) away from him and crawled to his bed. 

George flopped his head down against the pillow, not even bothering to get beneath the covers or take his shoes off as he fell right into a dream.

***

_ He was falling for a long time, but he didn’t feel afraid. It didn’t even entirely feel like falling. Maybe it wasn’t. His eyes were closed, he realized. He hadn’t noticed that before that moment. He thought that maybe he should open them… so he did.  _

_ When his eyes were open, he found that he was suddenly upright. But then, perhaps he always had been. Either way, now his eyes were open and he could see a beautiful, open field. In the distance, there was a huge lake with a wide river and a waterfall. The sky was bright and blue; a few fluffy white clouds floated about, keeping the sun from being unbearable. The wind was light and warm.  _

_ “Hey, George.”  _

_ George turned around sharply. “Not Fred,” he gasped. _

_ “Not quite,” Fred said, grinning. _

_ George wasn’t so sure right away.  _

_ Fred crossed his arms. “C’mon, Georgie.”  _

_ George’s eyes grew wide. It only sounded right when he said it. “Fred?” _

_ “Present,” Fred smirked.  _

_ “How? You’re gone.”  _

_ Fred punched his arm lightly. “Dreams can be pretty amazing things sometimes,” he said, then grinned. “I’ll race you to the lake!” He ran off. His arms were thrown wide like he was about to take flight, but he didn’t.  _

_ George breathed heavily for a few moments, then a soft smile gently crept across and ran after Fred. It was all going to be okay. Somehow.  _


	12. a cumbersome and heavy body (epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy and Oliver get married. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH! This is so exciting. Can't believe we're really on the epilogue. 
> 
> I do have a little "sequel" planned-- It's really more of a spin-off, but I'm not sure when that'll be up so more details on that to come.

_ 1 year later…  _

  
  


It was July of 1999 and George Weasley was tearing his closet apart, throwing every article of clothing that he owned upon his bedroom floor. “Dear?!” he cried. “Dear, have you seen my tie?!” 

Angelina Johnson stuck her head into their bedroom and frowned. “Did you just call me ‘ _ dear _ ’?” she asked. 

“Guess I did.” George blinked. “Is that a problem?”

“I suppose not.” Angelina snatched a checkered blue tie from where it was tangling around their headboard. “This tie?” 

“No, not  _ that _ one.” George smirked. “No, the gold one. Percy said we had to wear gold.”

Angelina snorted. “George, do you think that Percy would trust you all to get the right shade of gold? No, you get matching ties. And suits – what the hell are you doing in yours?” 

“What?!” George said. “But I haven’t gotten one – I’ve got to be there in an hour!” 

“You think that Percy would trust you to pick it up on time?” Angelina smirked. “It’s hanging up in your office,  _ dear. _ ” 

George breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re amazing,” he said and leaned in to kiss her, but Angelina stopped him because her makeup was fresh. George leaned down and kissed her shoulder, then hurried off to his office to get dressed.

The suit was nice. George assumed that Percy had picked them out. He wouldn’t be surprised if Percy had picked out the outfits for Oliver’s wedding party, as well. The suit was jet black, the collar thick and velvety. The tie and pocket square were both brilliant, shiny gold. There was even a pair of sleek shoes. When George went to take the suit out of the plastic garment bag that it came in, a note fell out. He picked it up and found instructions in Percy’s perfect handwriting:

_ ATTENTION! _

_ This is a rental! All the suits must go back tomorrow morning and they must be in the same condition that they arrived in! I have already folded all of the pocket squares and placed them exactly where they should be  _ –  _ please do not touch your pocket square! Please wear your own pocket watch on your waistcoat. (If you do not know how to attach your pocket watch to your waistcoat, bring the watch with you and our mother or I shall do it for you.) Please tie your necktie in a Half-Windsor Knot. (If you do not know how to tie a Half-Windsor Knot, bring the necktie with you and our mother or I shall do it for you.)  _

_ -P. W.  _

George wondered if everyone else had received the same note and imagined what Percy might have picked out for Ginny and Fleur to wear as he got dressed. He had to look in the mirror to tie his tie, but he managed it and then headed back up to the flat. 

Lee was standing in the kitchen in his boxers eating cereal out of the box. “What’s up?” he said. 

George raised his eyebrows. “Are you gonna get dressed, or…?” 

“I didn’t make the cut, remember?” 

“But I’ve got a plus-one.” 

“Oh. Am I your plus-one?” 

“I thought so.” 

“You never asked me to be.” 

“I thought it was implied.”

Lee snorted. “Fucking hell, Weasley.” He put the cereal away. “All right. I’m getting dressed. When are we leaving?” 

“Well, Angie and I have to go in forty-five minutes. You’re not in the wedding party. The ceremony’s not until two.” 

“Oh, perfect.” Lee took his cereal back out. “Where’s the invitation? Has it got the address?” 

George nodded. “On the fridge.” He headed back to his bedroom. “Angie, do you know how to attach a pocket watch to a waistcoat?” he asked while he dug through his side table drawer to find his watch.

“Fuck no,” she laughed at him from inside the closet. A second later, she walked out in a stunning crimson dress that fell off her shoulders, hugged her waist, and brushed the floor. “Can you believe Oliver and Percy picked this dress?” 

“I can believe that  _ Percy _ picked that dress out.” 

“They coordinated the outfits together, you know.” 

“Did they really?” 

“Mhm, and there are  _ accessories _ that come with it and everything.” Angelina pulled a matching necklace, bracelet, and earrings from her garment bag. “My outfit came with  _ instructions,  _ George _. _ I’m so impressed with them. Why aren’t you more impressed?” 

“Eh. You don’t know Percy.” George walked up behind Angelina where she was looking into the dresser mirror and putting her jewelry on. “Hang on a second – red and gold?”

Angelina laughed. “How very Gryffindor.”

George rolled his eyes. “Can’t stand them sometimes.” 

Lee appeared in the doorway. “Your brother is here.” 

“Which one?” George and Angelina both asked without looking away from the mirror.

“One of the older ones.” Lee shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know those two..” 

George went back to the kitchen with Lee and found Charlie wearing the same suit as him, right down to Percy’s perfect pocket squares. George punched him lightly and said, laughingly, “Hey, we’re identical.”

Charlie and Lee both laughed but Lee laughed a lot louder than Charlie did. 

“Anyway,” Charlie said. “Ready to go?” 

“In a minute,” George said. “Just waiting on Angie.”

“Coming! I’m coming!” Angelina called from the hallway and then wobbled into the room. She appeared to be having trouble walking in her shoes; it was evident, just by looking at the strappy things, that they had been chosen by someone who had never actually had to wear heels before. “ _ Shit  _ – I’m gonna kill Wood.” 

They didn’t leave for another twenty minutes because Angelina was doing practice laps around the kitchen, and then she, George, and Charlie all got up practicing how they were going to walk down the aisle. 

At last, they were ready to go. Luckily, the wedding was to take place at a wizard church so they were able to Apparate directly to it. They landed and climbed the small hill that the church sat on top of to join their friends and family where they were all gathered in front of the church.

Percy was running around frantically, frilly black dress robes billowing behind him wherever he went. He was popping from person to person, adjusting their ties and their laces and even their  _ hair.  _ “George!” he cried when he spotted his younger brother. “That is a  _ Full- _ Windsor Knot!” He pulled at George’s necktie and retied it himself. 

“Jeez,” George laughed. “Hello to you, too.” 

Percy yelled at Charlie for moving his pocket square and then the two of them got into a spat about it, then Percy hurried away to badger the rest of their family members. 

“Fuck,” Charlie huffed. “Thought there wasn’t supposed to be a bridezilla if there isn’t any bride.” 

George smiled. “You know that he’s just nervous,” he said in a gentler tone than he might have used a year prior. “He’ll be calmer once the ceremony is over.” 

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“I am.” 

“Only ‘cause you’ve  _ gotta  _ be supportive. You’re the best man.”

“No, it’s ‘cause I’m gonna get him drunk at the reception.” 

George, Angelina, and Charlie heard a  _ CRACK!  _ come from somewhere behind them and they all turned to see Bill and Fleur approaching; they were a vision in gold, walking arm in arm, Fleur in a gown of the same gold as Bill’s tie. They joined George, Angelina, and Charlie, and the five of them drew closer to the church together. 

Angelina told George that she would see him later and rushed off to join Oliver’s wedding party. George and Charlie stared after her for as long as they could, watching enviously as she circled up with Alicia and Katie, both dressed in identical crimson dresses and immediately started laughing at something one of them said to her. The four women who George and Charlie both recognized as players for Puddlemere United were grouped together around Oliver, apparently questioning his somewhat eccentric choice in wedding colors. The two men that played for Puddlemere, who wore suits similar to the Weasleys but with ties and pocket squares in the same deep red as the women's dresses, were talking very passionately to Harry. Harry was looking as if he would much rather be conversing with his three former Gryffindor teammates who stood just a few yards away from him. 

“Come on, you two,” Bill said to George and Charlie laughingly.

The four of them made their way over to the cluster of redheads where Percy and Molly were both fussing over Arthur, Ron, and Ginny’s appearances at length. As soon as they were seen approaching, Percy and Molly turned their attentions onto them. (Molly wore a brilliant golden bow on the front of a pale yellow dress, and Arthur was sporting a shiny gold bowtie.)

“George!” Percy cried.

“ _ Bill! _ ” Molly gasped.

“Where is your pocketwatch?!”

“Did you not think to comb your hair before attending your brother’s wedding?!”

Bill groaned as his mother dragged him off to neaten up his ponytail while George held out his pocketwatch. Percy surged forward to attach it to George’s waistcoat, then turned to fix Charlie’s pocket square. Finally, he turned to Fleur, looked her up and down once, and nodded. “Perfect.” 

Fleur flicked a sheet of platinum hair over her shoulder and said, “I know. Thank you.” 

“Right!” Percy called, clapping his hands. “Everyone inside the church now, if you please! If you will please follow Oliver and myself in two, single-file lines to –”

“Okay, Percy,” Oliver said. “Uh, everyone in my party come with me, an’ everyone in Percy’s go with him, yeah?”

The two wedding parties split off to wait for the reception to begin in separate rooms, which George thought was odd until the Weasleys all piled into their designated room and six Weasley siblings and Fleurs just barely fit. (Molly and Arthur had gone to take their seats up front near Oliver’s parents.) 

George found himself squished tightly between Ginny and Bill. Ginny grumbled to George about having to wear a dress all day long for most of the hour that they had to wait in the tiny room; otherwise, she was complaining that they shouldn’t have had to be there so early if they were only going to wait for an age _.  _ Bill didn’t talk very much; he was too busy staring at his reflection in Fleur’s hand mirror, disgusted at what his mother had done with his hair. 

It felt like they really were there for an age, listening to the wedding guests flood into the church hall, chattering loudly amongst themselves. Then, at long last, the organ blared. The reception had begun. 

Percy told everyone to follow him quietly. George briefly thought about shouting something rude for all the guests to hear, just to mess with him, but kicked himself and reminded himself he was the best man.

“Right, Ginny and Harry first,” Percy said in a whisper. 

Ginny, who had been eyeing the stocky men from Oliver’s team with an air of displeasure, sighed with relief as she took Harry by the hand and entered the church hall. 

Percy and Oliver paired off their respective wedding parties until only George and Angelina were left. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” George whispered. 

“Oh, hello,  _ dear, _ ” Angelina replied as they entered through the double doors. They walked down the aisle, hand in hand, and waved politely to the guests who lined the wooden pews, which were lined in enchanted golden roses. “Just so we’re clear,” she added softly so that only George could hear her over the organ, which was playing a little louder than was strictly necessary, “we are  _ not  _ doing Gryffindor colors for our wedding.” 

George raised his eyebrows. “Oh?” he whispered back. “Are we getting married?”

Angelina didn’t say anything else, nor did she look at him for the rest of their journey to the alter. At the end of the aisle, George and Angelina parted ways and took their places. 

“Hey,” George said softly. 

“Hey,” Bill said softly, nodding to him. 

Now that he was at the front of the room, facing the guests, George could see everyone who had come to witness Percy and Oliver’s union. Luna and Hermione were both sat at the front with Molly and Arthur since it was widely assumed that they would be engaged or married to Ginny and Ron respectively within the next few years. Luna was notorious for wearing bright, neon colors to formal events, but today she was dressed in a velvet emerald green dress that fell the way to the ground and hid her feet even when she was sitting down. George wasn’t sure if someone had told Auntie Muriel that the Weasleys were all wearing gold and this was her attempt at fitting in or if this was just what she had chosen to put on that morning, but she was dressed in a mustard yellow Victorian-style gown with a horrible frilly hat to match. Lee was seated toward the back with Penelope Clearwater, exchanging quiet comments and giggles with her. Neville was sitting next to Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, and Madame Pomfrey, who were all grouped together tightly. In fact, there were several members of the Hogwarts faculty and staff in attendance. Horace Slughorn and Rubeus Hagrid were sitting together; Madame Pince was sitting alone; Madame Hooch was seated next to Professor Trelawney, though she didn’t look particularly pleased about this. 

The double doors at the back of the church hall opened for a final time and Percy and Oliver entered the room, hand in hand. Now that they were walking next to one another, George could see that their dress robes complimented each other very nicely, the collars and cuffs lined with crimson and golden stitching; they each wore a carnation tucked into an outer pocket, Oliver’s a soft red and Percy’s a pale yellow. They shuffled down the aisle together to the organist’s ironic rendition of “Here Comes the Bride”.

The ceremony was beautiful and went as perfectly as Percy had hoped that it would. Their vows were touching, as well as printed on laminated parchment. When they were both finished reading their vows, they each took the flowers from their pockets. They both slipped a ring from the stems and exchanged their wedding bands. Percy slipped his own flower into Oliver’s pocket with trembling hands, then Oliver did the same with a wide grin and said, “Can I kiss ye now?” which caused Percy to turn as red as the carnation in his pocket. 

After the ceremony, both wedding parties had to stand for pictures  _ ages.  _ Oliver and Percy called George and Angelina over for a picture of the four of them, which was about the hundredth group photo combination. 

“Merlin, will this ever end?” Angelina groaned as the two of them trudged across the church courtyard. 

It was a long while yet before Percy and Oliver were satisfied, but it did happen eventually, and then they all piled into a limousine that looked like it would seat half of them if they really tried. Once inside, however, there was more than enough room to fit both wedding parties. There was even a full bar inside the limousine; George spent the entire ride trying to get Percy to have a drink in order to loosen him up, but Percy was too busy stressing over the red carnation in his pocket clashing with his red hair in the wedding photographs. 

The reception venue was far more beautiful than the church, where personal decoration was not allowed. The reception was held at a two-story vista-style restaurant with a stunning balcony and a dance floor where the lights hung from thin air and floated about. Every table had a dozen red roses wrapped up in sparkling gold ribbon, and the place settings were each done in Percy’s perfect calligraphy. There was a small stage at the head of the dance floor, and whenever anyone would step onto it the floating lights would gravitate toward that side of the room. 

George and Angelina had planned a joint speech instead of two separate speeches, with Percy and Oliver’s approval. It was both heartfelt and hilarious; the crowd of guests laughed so hard that they cried, and cried so hard that they laughed. 

Dinner was served soon and the food was so mouth-wateringly delicious, it could rival even Molly’s cooking. The reception, like the ceremony, was a smashing success. Oliver kept saying over and over again how he could hardly believe it.    
“What’d you expect?” Ginny finally asked him. “A disaster?”

“Aye.” Oliver nodded. “It’s what I’ve come to expect from every Weasley family gatherin’.” 

With his speech finished and the dinner plates being cleared away, George’s public duties as best man were more or less finished. Moving onto his private duties as best man, he went to the bar and ordered two drinks in Percy’s favorite flavor then set off looking for him. Oliver was busy greeting his family members and said he hadn’t seen him since they finished their dinner, and none of the Weasleys seemed to know where he had gone off to. 

George found himself drifting around the restaurant for an extended period of time, idly sipping his drink every so often. He finally wandered out onto the balcony upstairs, which was decorated with the same floating lights as the dance floor. Percy stood alone, leaning against the banister and staring up at the crescent moon. 

“Hey, there,” George said cautiously, doing his best not to startle him.

“Hi,” Percy said. “I just… needed some air.”

George nodded and held out one of the drinks, eyebrows raised in question. Percy nodded, so he crossed the balcony to stand with him and handed him the cup. They drank quietly for some time and stared up at the sky. It was cloudy so there weren’t any stars visible. George and Percy stared into the soft, warm glow of the moon that broke through the overcast night like a flame.

After some time, Percy turned to George and opened his mouth to say something. George waited patiently, but it seemed that Percy had forgotten what he wanted to say – or, more likely, that he had never had anything to say in the first place. He closed his mouth and turned back to looking up at the sky. 

George understood. He felt like he should be saying something, too. Those days, he felt like there were always words hanging in the air, just waiting to be said if only one of them was brave enough to say them. It wasn’t a new feeling, of course; he had felt this way ever since Fred died. He wondered if that feeling ever went away. 

A cloud drifted aside quite suddenly, and a pair of twinkling stars poked out from behind it. George and Percy exchanged a quick glance, a small smile, and looked back up at the silent sky once again. If they watched carefully enough, they could swear that the star on the right was winking at them. 

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is seriously my favorite fic I've ever written y'all. Thank you so much for reading :)

**Author's Note:**

> I asked a friend of mine to create a mood playlist for this story and she came through! Here you go, the official fic playlist:
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6fHKlWzvkXffrNxNzeh19e?si=VsQYE9NZTvm6mR3eRQ22LA


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